The Prince and the Dragon
by Turn loose the owl
Summary: When Arthur heard someone singing his name, he went to investigate. What he found in the cave underneath his castle might change his life forever. Years later as destiny beckoned, two friends would reunite again to face battles against magical attacks and prejudice. Arthur was mostly complaining about his new manservant though. Episodes rewrite from chapter 6 onwards.
1. Chapter 1: The song of the cave

The song of the cave

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><p>Arthur was furious. He ran through the tall corridors of the castle, trying to get away from the source of his annoyance.<p>

How could Morgana get to train with knights but not him? He was a boy _and_ he was one year and three months older than her. The knights were mean and Gaius always sided with them. They were laughing at him. Wait till he told his Father King about that!

Seeing a maid approached, Arthur quickly dived behind a nearby column, crouching and flattening himself against the wall, his heart flattered with nervousness and excitement. He couldn't let her see him; she could betray him to Geoffrey. His history lessons were as boring as the council's meeting, which he was forced to attend with Gaius as a part of his 'education'.

He snorted. Then he clapped his hand on his mouth. He was a prince. He knew everything and he needed not be taught. Except knight training. Father King was the greatest knight and he also trained a lot. He would one day be as great as him.

The maid was getting closer; he thought of sticking out his leg and tripped her. It would be fun, then Father would get very angry and it wouldn't be fun anymore.

The maid holding a pile of wrinkled clothes walked by oblivious, Arthur peeped out from behind the marble column. Safe. For now. He should go somewhere without people. He got to his feet and took the unfamiliar twists and turns of the castle.

He had never seen this place before, and it was really strange because he was born here. Furrowing his brow, Arthur tilted up his head and observed the strange place. There was a great arch made of unpolished rocks, each was larger than he was and much heavier. He put his hand on one of the grayish boulder and found that they were indeed rough with a thick layer of sand and dust on it. He wiped his hand on his red tunic.

Under the arch was a corridor so dark he could not see a few steps ahead of him. It was like the entrance to the big dark bat cave in the forest Arthur had once been to with Father King and knights when they were picnicking. Arthur pressed his lips together; he hadn't enjoyed the experience. Morgana had laughed at him for days because she thought he was scared. He wasn't!

So there was a cave in the castle. He knew his castle was built on a hill so it made sense. But what was in it? Why hadn't Father or Gaius or Geoffrey said anything about it?

He puffed up his cheek and let the breath come out loudly. It didn't matter. Father had forbidden him to go to this part of the castle alone because it was too close to the dungeon. It would be bad if anyone caught him here.

Just as he decided to go, he heard a voice calling his name.

_Arthur. Arthur._

It was a voice of a boy, and judging from the sound, he was in the … in the cave?

He took a few steps into the cave. He shivered; it was freezing.

'Hello?' He called out into the cave, his voice too small and weak for his liking. He was a prince, and a prince shouldn't be afraid of caves and bats.

He was almost six for the love of Camelot!

Straightening his shoulder, Arthur entered the cave.

* * *

><p>Arthur. Artie. Praty. Nutty. Gutty.<p>

_Arthur. Nathur. Sathur. Farrrfarr._

_Ar-Thur. ArthUR. ARRthur._

The child was singing in a childish rhyme. Arthur couldn't understand a word of the song except his name. The rest of the song revolved senselessly around it without any pitch or rhythm. A stupid rumbling of a bored child.

Arthur snorted. It was a _very _bad song.

He almost shrieked when he suddenly stepped on air. Feeling his way along the wall in the pitch dark corridor, he didn't notice the stair trailing down at the end of the path. He couldn't see a thing and his legs were shaking badly because…because… he was ex-hi-la-rated. It was a big word Gaius just taught him. He was going to show it off to Morgana someday. Bad Morgana, everyone seemed to love her because she was pretty. Arthur shook his head in disdain; the pink dress she wore today was _disgusting_.

_Ar-Thur. ArthUR. ARRthur._

The voice was louder, filling his curiosity. If Arthur squinted, he could see the end of the stair not quite far beyond. It was brighter down there, as if there was an exit. So he had found a secret corridor of the castle!

Triumphantly he crawled down the stair, the song of the boy luring him on.

_Ar-Thur. ArthUR. ARRthur._

The protagonist of the song had tackled the stair and was following the light. Emerging from the corridor, Arthur stood dumbfounded at the entrance of a magnificent cave, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. Great and imposing, high rocks crowded every wall as far as he could see, making him felt tiny and weak. Craning his head as high as he could, he stared up an opening at the top of the cave. The sunlight pouring through a hole at the top, but it only managed to dimly illuminate the ground as it travelled all the way down. It was ten feet tall! Arthur exclaimed to himself, even though he didn't know how tall one foot was. He just knew when the adults used the word, they weren't referring to his or their feet.

The cave was almost as large as his castle!

_Arthur. Artie. Praty…_

The voice stopped. Seemingly it had forgotten the next verse of his song. Arthur thought the boy had finally realized its ridiculousness before he continued with a renewed rigor.

_Prat! Prat! Prat!_

'Prat isn't a word!' Arthur shouted; he couldn't stand it anymore. It was a bad song, but it was about him! And he had a nagging that 'prat' wasn't a good word.

The cave went silent instantly. Arthur was suddenly aware of his own coarse breathe echoed through the vast darkness.

'Come out! I know you are here!' He called out again, nothing but to disperse the frightening silence.

'No one is here!' Came the swift reply.

Arthur rolled his eyes. He briefly wondered if it was the child of one of the lords and decided against it. They were stupid but they weren't _that_ stupid. That child would be funny!

'I am going to find you!' Arthur ran excitedly forward. The lack of response only fueled his determination.

'Stop! You are going to fall!'

Upon the sharp warning, Arthur fell back ungracefully on his butt, his heart running wild and loud – his leg just had had a brief taste of the empty space before him.

He had almost fallen down a cliff! Not a cliff exactly, but likely it would still kill him.

'Are you okay?' the voice was small, barely above a whisper; Arthur thought its owner was afraid.

'Yes. I am fine.' He too couldn't hide the quiver in his voice as he felt the rocks on the ground in reassurance.

Then the silence set in once again. The air was heavy and murky. The cave seemed to grow even larger.

But he wouldn't give up that easily.

'Where are you? Who are you? I am coming to your place.' Edging away from the cliff, Arthur shouted out to the air.

The boy didn't respond, but Arthur didn't feel disappointed. He was beginning to like this game.

'Are you up there?' He yelled at a rocky ledge high on the wall above the entrance.

'No!' The boy yelled back in a panicked tone. But the direction of his voice betrayed his location. Arthur smirked. He was definitely up there.

With the sun's projection on the wall, he could make out some the dents on the rock face. They almost looked _artificial_. Maybe that was how the boy had climbed up there. Well, he was certainly capable of climbing up to the protrusion if the boy could.

'I am coming!' Arthur exclaimed and he started to go up the cave. He was strong for his age. So why didn't Gaius let him train with the knights.

'No! The king doesn't let me talk to anyone. Where are you? Stop coming!' The boy's scared voice amplified through the cave, Arthur clenched his teeth; he was almost there. His muscles burned in protest. He stretched his arm and with a great push from his feet, Ha! He made it! He straightened and turned towards the content of the ledge.

'You can't see…' The voice flattered as its owner immediately dodged behind a rock, but it wasn't fast enough. Arthur had seen it.

It was a dragon.

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><p><strong>Disclaimer: I own nothing, except my dreams and my pen, all rights belong to their respective owners.<strong>

**Arthur's note: Hello everyone. I hope you have enjoyed the story just as I have enjoyed writing it.**

**I know this is a short chapter and the writing is a bit childish. It is because I am trying to capture the mind of a child. I promise the next chapter will be longer, and hopefully better. Please give it a chance. And please leave a review, so I will know how I am doing. While it is not the first published thing I have written in English, English is not my first language and I will ****be very grateful**** if someone point out my mistakes. If the writing seems strange, then I apologise because ****1) it is from a child's POV, 2) my English is bad, yelp I know, 3) I have a weird style even when writing in my mother tongue. **

**I have written down 70% of the stories, so there is no way I will stop posting one day, even if no one like this story. So you are still seeing me next week not matter what XD! I will update once a week or I will post a notice. **


	2. Chapter 2: Of coins and friendship

Of coins and friendship

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><p>Arthur realized his mouth was hanging loose, so he snapped it shut, pouted a bit, before it finally decided to slack down again.<p>

There was a dragon in the dungeon!

His mind was reeling. Dragons were thought to be hmm –what was the word – extinct, that meant they were no longer in this world, Arthur nodded to himself. Dragons were magical creatures, so they were all killed during the Great Purge. Born midst the Great Purge, Arthur had no recollection of what had happened. All he knew was from the stories Father King used to tell him and Geoffrey's history lessons which he snoozed through. They were great stories! Camelot had won so many battles and Father King had singled-handedly killed all the dragons and their dragonlords! He had always wished to join the battles, but he was probably just soiling himself then, like Morgana did when she was a baby and not as annoying.

'You are a dragon!'

'No!' came the prompt reply.

'You are lying! I saw you!'

'No you _really _didn't!'

'Come out! I promise I won't tell anyone about you.' There was a rustling that Arthur imagined as scales rubbing against scales, and then a loud bump followed by a soft hiss.

The dragon came out from behind the rock, first its muzzle, then its body followed hesitantly. It took a few steps forward and stopped, staying close to the rock, head trailing close to the ground.

Arthur gasped. Back then he had just glimpsed a dark winged silhouette with brilliant blue eyes; Now it was his first proper look at the creature – It was about the size of a hound; its entire body was covered in charcoal scales that glistered in the cave, like his father's crown. As it shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny, light rippled across its body like water on the stones and its wings ruffled slightly before curling back tight against its flanks. It has a round body and chubby legs; Arthur thought fondly as he remembered that fat old dog of the cook, though the dragon's claws were definitely much more viscous looking. A thick short tail protruded from its rear, swinging back and forth in a slow stiff motion. An equally short neck connected its head to the body. The dragon's face was a cross between a wolf and a horse, with a pair of disproportionately large triangular ears on top that were ever twitching slightly.

It was a beautiful creature, and quite different from the golden dragon on the chest of Camelot. Why haven't Father King brought him to see it?

The dragon blinked, bringing his attention to a pair of bright blue eyes, a vivid hue that reminded Arthur of the bottoms of deep rivers and lakes, an intense yet shadowed blue that seemed too vast and fathomless to be trapped in the eyes. These eyes looked intelligent.

Oh! And it probably was.

The dragon blinked again.

'Stop staring like that. It is rude.' The frustrated boyish voice came out from the dragon's jaw. Arthur was amazed and he made a big discovery.

'You can talk!'

'_No_, in case you haven't noticed.' The dragon sounded annoyed, and it probably was.

But that shouldn't be possible. No one told him dragons were able to speak. He thought they were just savage beasts like griffins and trolls, mindless and blood thirsty like all magical creatures. But this dragon was obviously intelligent. Not _intelligent_-intelligent, but err intelligent? Arthur's face crumpled in confusion. He seemed to get many things wrong today. Knights, Lord Bovius, Morgana, Gaius, dragon…He didn't like the feeling; Father always acted, only stupid people got confused. He would not let the dragon see that.

'But you can't sing.' Arthur puffed up his chest to look confident, glad that he had made another big discovery so fast.

'Yes I can!' The dragon exclaimed, wings snapping open in a jolt, the semi-translucent membranes around thin skin looked too short and frail under the dim light. Arthur wondered if it could fly.

To prove itself, the dragon began its song again.

_Ar-Thur. ArthUR__rr –_

Arthur rushed forward to clamp the dragon's jaw shut. It wriggled furiously out of his crunch.

'What's that for!' The dragon growled, showing a mouth of sharp teeth. Arthur wasn't afraid though; it was small and stupid.

'That is for disrespecting my name with such an insulting song!' Arthur shouted back, this was what the Lords always did.

'Your name?'

'I am Arthur.'

Silence.

'Arthur? Arthur Pendragon?' The dragon's voice shaking; like when he was summoned to Father's chamber, not knowing if a scold or a hug awaited. It was visibly trembling too. Arthur blinked, he hadn't expected that reaction.

'So finally you have heard me.' It whispered softly to itself, shaking its large head disbelievingly.

'I was at the entrance of the cave…'

'Why don't you come earlier!'

'How do you know me?' Reeling in shock at the dragon's outburst, Arthur regretted his question immediately. It was a stupid question. Everyone knew him, he was the prince of Camelot after all.

'I heard your name in my dreams. I have been calling you in your head ever since.' Its boyish tone sounded strange when it was full of emotions.

'In my head?' Arthur scowled.

_Like this._

'Ar! Get out of my head!' The dragon gave him a wicked toothy grin, Arthur wanted to smack it across the face, but it easily leaped away and dodged the smash.

'We are linked somehow.' It was still wearing that grin.

'We are not!' Arthur had the urge to grin back so as to confuse the dragon, but somehow something seemed wrong.

'Corns or coins or something like that…Nah,' the dragon said finally, flopping down onto its rear and adopted a wise man-tone, 'it is _des-tin-ny_.'

'What does that mean?'

'It means future!'

'No.' Arthur crossed his arm, 'you are making it up again!'

'No. I am not!'

'You are!'

'I am not!'

'I am done talking to you!' Arthur pulled his hair in frustration; a few blonde strands did fall out.

'Me too!' The dragon snorted, a thin veil of smoke puffed up from its nostrils.

'I am leaving!' Arthur threatened, holding up his finger for emphasis. This was usually effective but sometimes it did backfire.

'You certainly are!' It leaped its feet swiftly and gave its wings a few powerful strokes, though it stayed solid on the ground. Arthur turned away, counting his steps one by one mentally and blamed his luck.

'Hey… _Arthur_.' The dragon's voice was soft; the prince couldn't hide his triumphant smile as he turned. 'Please don't anyone about me – about you coming.'

Arthur pondered his options. He didn't like being told what to do, but the dragon was pleading. It softened something in a child's heart and resonated with it.

'_Okay_. But –' Arthur clicked his tongue as he thought vigorously. 'You have to tell me something. What's your name? You know mine, I don't know yours.'

'Emrys.' The dragon replied. He hadn't heard of that name before but then it was the name of a dragon. It sounded old. He shook his head and nodded.

'Goodbye Emrys.'

'Goodbye prat!'

'I am not a prat!' Arthur raised his fists in the air; Emrys' laughter faded away as his dark silhouette soared through the cave.

* * *

><p>'Prat.' Arthur muttered under his breath – Boring people wrote boring books about more boring people. It would be more fun if they were, well, prats.<p>

'Where have you heard that word?' _Oops_. Gaius got sharp ears.

'From Gwen.' Arthur tried to keep his voice steady, despite the leapt in his heart. Gwen was the daughter of Morgana's maid. The three of them often played together.

Gaius raised his eyebrows. Arthur had always thought that it was funny, the way the brows disappeared into the brown mesh of hair. He had practiced doing it in front of the mirror until his head hurt, but still his stubborn eyebrows wouldn't go that high. That's the one thing Gaius was probably better than him.

Gaius continued to intimidate him with his eyebrows for several long seconds while Arthur struggled not to show signs of fear or just burst out laughing. Finally the physician let the matter dropped and went back to teaching. Arthur praised himself silently for his quick wit.

* * *

><p>'So why are you here Emrys?' Arthur asked, sitting cross-legged across the dragon on the same rocky ledge.<p>

'Your father trapped me here.' The cheerful tone in his voice was gone, even the gleam in his eyes seemed to dull. His tail curled tightly towards his body in a protective manner, Arthur sensed it was not the dragon's favourite topic. The cave held its breath, cold and solemn. Emrys turned his back to the prince, exposing a rusty manacle connected to an equally old chain on his left hind leg. The chain blended in well on the dark scales and dark cave, so Arthur hadn't noticed it before.

'Why?' Arthur pressed, curious, shuffling closer to the dragon. He thought he heard the fibres tearing against the rough rocks and winced. He wanted to touch that manacle but the dragon flinched from his touch with an almost pained look; it didn't escape Arthur's notice.

It occurred to him that he knew very little about dragons. All he knew was after they had all died, Father King announced the Great Purge succeeded and held a celebration. Gaius told him he had received a tooth of the last dragon from Uther, but Arthur couldn't remember it. It wasn't his fault because he was just one and a half then. He asked, 'Didn't he kill all dragons and dragonlords?'

'He didn't. I am the last dragon and dragonlord.' Emrys said, barely containing his emotions …of pride and sorrow.

'How can that be possible? _What_ are you?' Arthur looked at the dragon over, trying to find the un-dragon-ness in it. The disappearance of his tooth probably had something to do with Morgana. It was always her.

'I was a boy, like you.'

'What happened?'

He reared his head and stared into Arthur's wide eyes. Deep blue on light blue. 'Please don't make me repeat them again,' and he rested his triangular head on the prince's lap. 'Uther tricked the dragonlords to Camelot. Then he made them sleep with food and controlled them with bad magic. He ordered the dragonlords to make dragons kill each other. He made my father kill me but my father was strong and he didn't. He changed me into a dragon to save me and he died.'

Arthur scowled. His father most definitely _did not _have magic. Probably Emrys was referring to some magic artifacts Camelot had con-fis-cate-ed during the Purge. They filled many rooms in the vault and Father said they were dangerous.

' My father …was a dragonlord. I was five months old. My m-mother… I came with them to Camelot. I remembered blood. There was so much blood. So much ssscreaming. ' Emrys trembled in his lap, his voice growing smaller and smaller. Arthur gently patted him on the head, moving his palm in a calming pattern of strokes. He had seen the cook did that, sobbing, as his dog crumpled to old age. It felt wrong, treating an intelligent creature like an animal, but at the same time, it felt right. There was something wet on his thigh; He didn't know dragons could cry. 'After all the dragons died, Uther killed the dragonlords. Uther made my father kill me but my father didn't and he broke the staff. He used all of his magic to transform me into dragon. It was possible only because I was me or Emrys. Then Uther killed…killed him.'

'How do you survive then?' He couldn't believe Father killing a child. There must be some mistakes. At the same time he felt sad for Emrys, but he shouldn't be, because dragonlords and dragons were magical and magic was evil.

A mirthless laugh escaped from Emrys' jaw, a sound he often heard from the lords in the council room. He _hated it. _

'He couldn't. Dragons are very hard to kill. But he could trap one. He stole many things from sorcerers.'

His father wouldn't _steal_ things! He couldn't say such thing about his father!

'How could you know all these? Someone must have told you!' _He must be lying. Wait till he found a hole in his argument. His father wasn't that cruel. His father battled just and fair._

'No. No one!' Emrys shot up said quickly, fear in his voice. Arthur felt the muscles tensed under his palm.

'You were a baby! I was six so I know it was impossible!' Technically he was a week from six, but that was not important.

'No! No! It is a secret!'

'You are lying! You must be lying! You can't possibly remember all these.' Arthur stood up, his voice reaching a crescendo with his anger.

'I still dreamt of them!' Emrys roared.

_His father wouldn't do that!_

'The ground shook and the dragons screamed and fought –'

_He is lying…_

'Fire and blood everywhere through the window –'

'Stop insulting my father!' Arthur's voice was hoarse from screaming.

'Mother and I in the dark –'

_His father wouldn't do that…_

'The sword on Father's back –'

'Your father probably deserved all these.'

That was the last straw.

'We never attacked the kingdom!' The dragon spat venomously. 'Murderer!' Tiny sparkle flew from his jaws. Immediately the chain around his ankle glowed gold and the dragon screamed in pain.

Arthur ran, tripping on his knees as he stumbled down the ledge. It hurt, but Emrys' wrenching screech drowned his mind.

* * *

><p>Arthur was furious.<p>

How dared Emrys insulted his father that way!

'Where are you going?' A voice called out from his back.

'Mind your own business!' Arthur yelled back without thinking. He would never see the blasted dragon again.

'May I inform you this is not the proper manner of a prince.' Startled, Arthur turned to a very disapproving Gaius with criticizing brows. He immediately became sullen and his shoulder drooped. 'And, correct me if I am wrong, you haven't gone to Geoffrey's class today. Do I need to remind the king of that incidence?'

'No. I am sorry Gaius.' All the fight went out of him like an unlocked stable.

Gaius asked a guard to escort him back to his chamber. He was going to be the laughing stalk of knights and Morgana the next day.

The anger rose up again as soon as the guard's back turned.

He chased his servant Bernard out of the room, throwing goblets and toys behind him and slammed door loudly. He told himself his tandem was completely justified.

It was all Emrys' fault.

* * *

><p>The next day Arthur woke in a foul mood. His servant had woken him up early again and Arthur flung his pillows across the floor as retaliation. He mourned into his mattress as Bernard shook him at the shoulder. After fifteen minutes of struggling and wrestling, a very disheveled prince got out of bed. His porridge had gone cold, so it tasted even worse. The prince threw the dish at his servant. Watching the slimy goo dripped down his face, Arthur suddenly felt much better.<p>

The sun was bright and hot. Spring was beginning to blossom into summer. Arthur dragged an unwilling Bernard, clothes still dirty out to the castle yard. He liked the way his golden fringe plastered on his forehead with sweat. It made him looked like a knight rising from victory. They played Knights and Sorcerers. Arthur as always was the good knight and he chased the evil sorcerer Bernard around the yard. As a healthy labor worn man in his thirties, Bernard had no problem outrunning the prince.

But that was a problem for Arthur.

By the power vested in him, the prince was about to order Bernard to stop running when he saw something more evil that a sorcerer – a pink shadow.

Morgana gave a delighted shriek and spurted towards Arthur, her pink lace dress trailing behind her. Out of breath, Arthur didn't quite manage to dodge as she flung herself into a deadly pinkish embrace.

Arthur felt fear gripped his heart. All he could see was pink. Ouch. That was _girlish and disgusting_.

Soon they were a tangle on the grass, twisting and laughing, wriggling and screaming.

It would have been a good day for Arthur if Morgana had not discovered the tear on her sleeves.

Come on. It was just a minor tear. No one would bother with that.

But Morgana had cried like Camelot had fallen and Arthur knew he was in deep trouble.

Father had punished him before he got a chance to explain himself oh because Morgana was crying on his lap.

They were _playing_ – It wasn't his fault!

He was made to apologise to her. He could see her smirk behind the tears. It was utterly humiliating!

Sometimes he really hated his father.

He swore he would never play with Morgana again.

* * *

><p>He had been hearing Emrys for a few days, in his head. He wondered if it was like what Gaius said about potions; they smelt so bad that once you smelt it you would remember it forever. Emrys was really annoying. No matter how hard he clapped his hands on his ears his voice still got through, because Emrys was in his head and his head was inside his ears.<p>

_Arthur... Arthur..._

Arthur turned in his bed, kicking off his mattress.

_Arthur... Arthur... I am sorry… Please come…._

But Arthur was still a bit angry and Emrys should be punished for making Arthur angry, so he would not go to the cave until… hmm… a very _very _long time.

_Arthur... Arthur..._

Emrys had quiet down for the while. Arthur finally got his sleep.

* * *

><p>The birthday was nothing like what Arthur had expected.<p>

He faked tiredness and retired to his chamber straight after the feast.

_Arthur... Arthur..._

Here Emrys was annoying him again…but at least he could use someone to complain to.

Arthur sneaked out of his chamber. The castle was deserted. Father was diplomat-ing with the lords and King Roded of Carthis in the Great Chamber. The servants were busy cleaning up the mess they had made in the day. The castle was so dark and empty that Arthur almost felt scared. _Almost._

In a way, the castle was just like the cave. He wondered if Emrys was ever afraid.

He stumbled through pitch darkness to the dragon's lair.

Emrys was at the stony ledge again, drowsing, his body half bathed in the moon light. It made his scales glowed softly, not like piercing light of a jewel, more like the simmer of crackling fire. For such a large cave, the ledge was one of the few places illuminated, by the moon and, as the prince recalled, the sun; Arthur wondered if he flavored the spot for that reason.

The prince sneaked closer, though not exactly quiet, Emrys still hadn't stirred.

Then the prince crouched next to the dragon, watching the way his stomach swelled up and deflated as he breathed, the soft rumbling that escaped from the wrinkled skin around his nostrils, two budding ivory stubs hidden behind his triangle ears.

It was mesmerizing – the way he could observe another being so closely without being embarrassed or watched back. The way he realized, for once so strongly, that the creature in front of him was _alive. Like him._

Suddenly the dragon's body tensed. He coiled in towards himself so that his head was hidden under the canopy of his wing and tail. He let out a low whimper, followed by a sting of unintelligible mumbling as his claws flexed and left scratch marks the stone.

Emrys was having a nightmare, Arthur thought. Morgana had a lot of them too and she would refuse to sleep once in a while. Arthur never had a nightmare that bad because he was brave.

'Emrys?' he called out tentatively. The dragon's tail slashed out in a spasm. The best way to duel with a nightmare was to wake from it.

'Emrys!' he shouted.

The dragon's eyes snapped open, a fierce orb of blue before his pupils widen to the dim light. He reared on his hind legs and fell ungracefully on his wings and flanks.

Arthur burst out laughing.

'Hey! It is not funny!'

'It is!'

'It isn't.' Emrys snapped, slowly rolling back onto his feet and sniffing at his wing sourly.

Arthur was still giggling.

'So you come all the way here to laugh at me?'

Arthur thought the dragon was naturally sarcastic – he clearly couldn't hold his tongue even if the anxiety was so evident on his face.

Arthur wiped the tears from his eyes. 'I thought you were the one calling me every night.'

'Ar,' Emrys walked hesitantly towards Arthur, still uncertain about his anger. 'It was boring here.'

'It was boring up there too.' Arthur sat down, cross-legged. He scratched the tiny dragon on his muzzle and Emrys immediately snuggled in towards his touch. Ouch…there were probably a lot of drools on that. Arthur settled on scratching between his ears. The scales felt like heard leather.

'Why?' Emrys asked without opening his eyes, he sounded drowsy. It took a while for Arthur to understand his question.

'Today is my birthday –' Emrys stared at him in shock' – and father invited all the Camelot lords and their children and King Roded of Carthis and Prince Rodet to the castle.'

'Isn't it happy to play with them?'

'No. Father says they are my future allies and potential enemies, so I must be on my best behavior.' Arthur snorted. 'There is no play if everyone put on his _best_ behavior. I can't even push anyone.'

'I always behave well but no one play with me too.' Emrys chimed in. Arthur shook his head. Emrys was magical so he was bad and no one played with bad people.

'All I want is to train with the knights for a while, then Father and I can spread the rest of day in the market.'

''What is a mar-ket?'

'A place people buy and sell things.'

'That is stupid. Nothing really happens.'

'No. you are stupid. Some people sell things and then some other people buy them.'

'There are many people in the market?'

'Yes! I can hear their voices all the way from the castle!' Arthur exclaimed excitedly, gesturing widely in the air. 'People look like a sea of black spots moving around! Though I rarely go there…'

'Do they sell chicken?'

'Yes… Why chicken?'

'Because they are…. Are chicken yellow?'

'Yes. You are stupid.

'Do chicken _bolyp_?'

'There is no such word.'

'Do chicken fly?'

'No.' Emrys hesitated, disappointed.

'Do they have flying chicken in the market?'

So they talked for a long time. Arthur described things to Emrys about the outside world. Eventually Arthur yawned. Emrys sat on its hunch so that they were at eye level to each other.

'Someone had visited me. And he told me what happened in the Purge.'

'So I was right!'

'But I cannot tell you who he is.' Emrys said urgently, his serpentine eyes wide.

'Nah. I get it.' Arthur waved his hand in the air dismissively. He had a very good idea who this person was – Lord Sovis, he loved popping his nose everywhere, and his son Padrew too. Arthur had just caught Pad looking through his toys in the royal chamber _again _yesterday.

He yawned again.

'I get to sleep now. Tomorrow I have lessons with Gaius and _Geoooffrey_.'

Arthur thought absent-mindedly that he could ask them a bit more about dragons. Not too much. It would be suspicious.

'You will come again?' Emrys asked, his voice small but hopeful.

'I promise.'

The dragon gave him the goofiest smile he had even seen.

* * *

><p>Arthur raised his eyebrows.<p>

'Don't do that! –' The dragon shook with laughter ' – Haha…you look like…' Emrys shut his mouth abruptly, finding sudden interest in the rocks above him.

'What do I look like?' Arthur demanded, crossing his arms across his chest to appear royal and imposing. He squirmed slightly; he had wrapped his arms a bit too tightly.

'You look like…Prince Arthur!' Emrys replied, showing Arthur a toothy smile so huge that his eyes had disappeared.

'Emrys you idiot! _I_ _am_ Prince Arthur! ' The boy in question rolled his eyes.

'Rrreally? ' The giggle spell had returned.

Arthur wondered why Gaius had said dragons were wise.

* * *

><p>Disclaimer: I don't own anything, only my pen.<p>

Author's note: Yelp, so do you know who has visited Emrys?

**Yes, it is Lord Sovis, **my lovely OC. He is going to dominate the all the later chapters because this story is totally about how the epic Lord battled monster and charmed Niumeh, Morgana, Morgause and even Uther! It is a love polygon!

Just kidding! It is just some nonsense I write when I am really really happy!

I never know why I am brave enough to post the first chapter of nonsense. I spend the whole night chewing my nails. Hopefully this chapter is better, at least it is longer. (Well maybe just longer rubbish) My writing is not good, I know and I can never write as good as some authors on the site. But well, one day I dream of Gwaine and he lends his courage to me so I am doing all the idiotic things I shouldn't be doing. And Morgana may have slipped some mandrake root under my bed so I am practically going insane. Reviews can save me though, err, not really.

Thanks for everyone who follow or favourite. You have no idea how happy you make me. Thanks. Really.

In my place it is getting cold now, so I send you all virtual hot chocolate! (but it never gets cold enough to snow, *don't snort at me!)

Finally, a quote (I do stupid things very often!), though it isn't really related to the story or my feelings, but, ar, blah blah, this is from one of my favourite author.

"A writer never forgets the first time he accepted a few coins or a word of praise in exchange for a story. He will never forget the sweet poison of vanity in his blood and the belief that, if he succeeds in not letting anyone discover his lack of talent, the dream of literature will provide him with a roof over his head, a hot meal at the end of the day, and what he covets the most: his name printed on a miserable piece of paper that surely will outlive him. A writer is condemned to remember that moment, because from then on he is doomed and his soul has a price." David Martin, The Angel's Game, Carlos Ruiz Zafon

Writing is my life, I hope you all can find joy in writing. If everyone on the site can start writing and posting… it will be my Albion.


	3. Chapter 3: Set me free

Set me free

* * *

><p>Autumn came and scent of pine filled the air. The forest grew red day by day, like a drunken knight. Red and golden leaves showered down on the white walls of the castle, like a gigantic crest of Camelot.<p>

Arthur loved kicking up the leaves wherever he went.

He would have a blanket of leaves in his chamber if Bernard had not begged him to stop.

Emrys' cave was chilly, though the scent of autumn never quite made it down there.

Arthur showed him a cape of Camelot. The golden dragon on the red breech looked much more powerful than the chubby creature in front of him.

Emrys blinked.

'Why does Camelot use dragon as symbol? Don't they hate dragons?'

'The crest was made long ago before the Great Purge.'

'And you are a "Pen-dragon".'

'Doesn't mean that I love dragon.'

And Arthur didn't love pens either. Geoffrey loved pens but he wasn't a Pendragon.

Maybe name didn't mean anything at all.

Arthur stood up and tied the cape around his neck. He stood proud and noble and he unsheathed his imaginary sword.

'For the love of Camelot!' He pointed his great sword at Emrys, who stared back at him stupidly.

'One day I am going to the greatest knight in all kingdoms!' Arthur declared triumphantly. Emrys ogled cross-eyed at the finger jabbing at his nose.

Arthur's excitement brought him to the top of a rock, a kingdom he conquered with a great leap, where he announced his great plan for the future.

'I will go on quests with my knights. We will save poor villages, defeat evil sorcerers and kill magical monsters!'

And Father King would be so proud of him…

When Emrys the idiot fell into trouble he would swoop in and save the day…

Arthur finally noticed Emrys had not shared his passion.

'What's wrong?' He poked at his friend flopping onto the ground. Emrys' head emerged from under his wing.

'You can go wherever you like. I will still be here when you want to kill your last monster.'

'Don't worry Emrys you can go with me!'

'Your father won't allow that– ' the prince was silent – 'And Arthur?'

'Hmm?'

'Your dragon was upside down.'

* * *

><p>The leaves drifted down to the cave.<p>

Arthur watched as Emrys snapped at the leaves in the air, swinging up and down with the rhythm of the leave dance. Hanging in the air, the chain on his leg looked enormous, trailing all the way down to the deep dark bottom of the cave.

Emrys would be thrilled to see the forest, with all the brown and red and gold and green.

The brown bark coarse and aromatic. The flaming leaves like a whirlwind of fire. The ever-refreshing green of the grasses. All together they were a world only belonged to the dreams.

And he knew his vocabulary wasn't that adequate yet.

And no word could replace the mind with the eyes.

* * *

><p>With autumn came the birds. Father King and the nobles would go hunting in the forest with the knights. Sometimes Arthur would tag along, riding on a pony beside Father. And Father would tell him names of the animals and terrain of the forest and how to be a great hunter and the tales of the knights.<p>

Arthur loved hunting.

Though his back was always sore afterwards.

Arthur shifted uncomfortably on his spot on the stony ledge. The rock hurt his bottom after a day of bumpy ride. The worst thing was it didn't just hurt, it also itched, like tiny needles prickling.

'Sometime I see birds flying by the opening of the cave.'

'What do they look like?' Arthur shuffled, shifting his hand closer to his-

'Narrow wings. Quite big. I only see them in autumn.' The dragon's head popped out from over his shoulder and the prince withdrew his hand immediately in shock. He tugged on the fabrics of his clothes. Emrys raised his wings and rolled his head in a circle to demonstrate the features of a bird. Arthur couldn't understand it and he itched.

'Wait! I have something to show you!' Emrys leapt into the sky and Arthur raised his arm to shield himself from the flattering wings. Gushes of winds meshed his hair. Then the dragon was gone and Arthur finally had the privacy to do something unprincely.

Emrys was back with a feather in his muzzle. A large grayish tail feather. Arthur smiled as he recognized it. It was a type of noisy bird that tweeted non-stop in the hunts.

''That is a merlin.'

'Merlin?'

'Aye. They only come to Camelot in autumn.'

Emrys flexed his wings. 'I want to be a merlin so that I can fly away.'

Arthur ran his hand over his dragon's smooth scales. Emrys always leaned in towards his touch and Arthur too had enjoyed it. He savaged their moments together; they were close by an invisible bond, something that Arthur couldn't explain. The way it felt all right when he was sitting on the ledge with Emrys, arm around the crouching dragon, legs dangling dangerously at the cliff.

Maybe the des-tin-ny thing Emrys said was right. They were like two grains of the same corn.

If he ever admitted it Emrys would go all puffed up.

Emrys arched his neck to the opening of the cave longingly. Arthur followed.

Actually Arthur had been thinking.

Yes he could never bring Emrys to his quest. And unlike him, Emrys would never have a future.

But he could change that.

He was a prince after all.

'Emrys? If you are free, promise me you won't turn evil. Promise me you won't attack Camelot.' Arthur looked at him in the eyes. He saw Emrys' blue eyes dilated in fear.

'I won't! but – Arthur? Why are you saying that?' The dragon tried to back away, tail coiling and wings flaring unconsciously. Arthur held him in place. Not yet.

'Pinky promise!' Arthur pressed his lips together, giving him the most serious look he could muster, though Gwen always said it looked like a pout.

No it wasn't a pout. He was serious.

He had been thinking about this for nights.

In the end it was straight forward – If Arthur didn't like it, it was bad, and so it would be bad for Emrys too.

The dragon was still struggling under his grasp.

Impatient, Arthur grabbed his paws.

And they sealed the promise, finger and claws.

* * *

><p>The first snow came. A quiet gentle drift.<p>

Patches of white dusted the stones and shadows. The bottom of the cave glimmered white from the thin blanket of snow. Arthur saw traces of the fading paw print of Emrys, a crisscross of steps and an occasional slash of a tail on a craven of white.

Arthur wore a thick fur coat that made him look as chubby as Emrys.

He discovered that Emrys was warm like a hearth – the snow melted instantly as it fell on the scales.

They cuddled together, watching the snow fell and fell.

He used stones and knives and Emrys used fangs and claws.

Arthur once even sneaked a torch with him.

The chain glimmered silver underneath the rust, unscratched.

Arthur had a plan though, sort of.

He didn't know how to break Emrys' chain, but he would.

* * *

><p>Deep in the library there was a place he knew where Father King hid all the magic books from the Great Purge.<p>

He had discovered the place accidentally when he played hide-and-seek with Morgana. He was trying to hide inside the strange room when Geoffrey caught him struggling at the door. He was told sternly never to enter, and in the archivist slip of tongue he learned of one of the castle's secret. It made Geoffrey even madder. But it was not fair! He hadn't even touched the doorknob! And Morgana then had caught him standing stupidly with Geoffrey and won the game.

This time he would just have to sneak past Geoffrey.

He first hid a book, then he asked Geoffrey for the book.

As Geoffrey happily went to his search, pleased that the prince had developed a taste in the jewels of history, Arthur slipped deeper into the library.

It was incredibly easy. Arthur thought he was very clever.

The old wooden door stood inconspicuous beside a shelf, bending into the brown wall of the library.

Arthur was about to turn the worn brass knob when he realized he had no key.

Opps.

Then the door gave way with a soft mourn, politely inviting the prince inside. He blinked as his eyes adjusted to the darker room. The rails of the door had been eaten away by age, patches of black moldy woods covered its surface.

Lucky!

Arthur sneezed as dust assaulted his nose, the door closed behind with a loud bang. He jumped. Hopefully Geoffrey still hadn't given up finding the book. He had thrown The Rise and Fall of the Malessizia Kingdom underneath a bookshelf across the labyrinth.

Arthur surveyed the room. It was slightly smaller than his chamber. On all sides of the wall were shelves housing a few books and items. Some looked suspiciously like magical artifacts that had escaped the vault somehow. In the centre, also covered in thick layers of cobwebs and dust, was pile of books, each slumped upon one another in a fragile balance, as if someone had thrown all the books inside and left in a hurry.

Arthur goggled open-mouthed at the book tower. It was even taller than him!

He didn't want to be crushed underneath. It would be stup –

A book tumbled from the pile and landed at his feet, a gentle nudge at his toe.

Curious, Arthur picked it up and looked at the page it was opened to.

It bore a picture of a manacle and chain exactly like the one on Emrys. Even the strange craving and words looked similar.

Arthur smiled. He was really lucky.

He tore down a few yellowish crispy pages and hid them in his tunic.

He headed back to the entrance of the library. Geoffrey still hadn't come back.

Arthur felt so proud. The plan wouldn't have worked without his great intelligence.

* * *

><p>Breaking the chain was different from what he had expected.<p>

There was no dancing around the fire, killing animals, blood sacrifice, hurting children or anything evil he had come to associate with magic.

The book said the Bind of lstheir could be broken by a virgin….sword… and a lunar eclipse.

He knew what an eclipse was. That was the moon disappearing from the sky, though it would not be forever. The moon was going to be gone next week. People were afraid. Gaius had reassured his father it was not sorcery and his father in turn had reassure the people it was not magic. His father addressed Camelot from the castle balcony. He looked so powerful and regal and the people below looked so small; some were shaking.

Arthur wasn't afraid because he was brave. He wondered how the moon would disappear. Would it go out like a fire? Would it fall from the sky? It might be fun.

But he didn't know what a virgin was.

* * *

><p>'Gaius what is a virgin?'<p>

Gaius' eyebrows shot up in the air. Arthur thought he looked shocked.

Maybe he asked the question wrong.

'Gaius where can I find a virgin?'

Arthur had never seen Gaius' eyes this big. It looked funny.

'You have no need to concern yourself with that Arthur.'

Then he buried his head back into the book and continued reading. Arthur stomped his feet underneath the table. He still hadn't got an answer.

* * *

><p>'Can you tell me where to find a virgin Sir Florence? '<p>

Arthur looked up to the tall knight in shiny armour with a large sword on his belt. He thought the knights would know a lot from their adventures.

'Thinking about the future of the kingdom already my prince?' Sir Florence said in a teasing tone. He burst into laughter, holding his belly before dropping onto the grass laughing, split flying everywhere. The other knights soon followed.

Arthur frowned.

'The prince sure knows how to enjoy life!'

'I know so many virgins! I can hook you up with one!'

Arthur was angry. The knights were laughing at him. One day he would be as tall and he would get his own shiny armour and the best sword in the world and he would beat them all.

He probably would get all the virgins too, no matter what they were.

* * *

><p>It turned out to be very simple.<p>

'Virgin sword? That is a sword never used!' Gwen said cheerfully, glad she could answer the prince's question. She set the jar of water on the floor and waited with her hands behind her back, expectant.

She looked very cute that way.

Arthur remembered now her father was a blacksmith, but still Gaius and Sir Florence were very stupid not to know the answer. Even a peasant had known.

All the swords in the armoury had been used by the knights and the soldiers. So Arthur whispered in her ears and asked Gwen a flavor, she couldn't refuse his prince anyway.

* * *

><p>'Arthur? Are you sure it was right?' Emrys eyed the virgin sword on Arthur's hand wearily. The blade Gwen took from his father. The chain rattled on the floor as the dragon shifted nervously again and again.<p>

'Shut up Emrys.' Arthur snapped. The sword, taller than half of his height, was heavy. He concentrated at the moon through the opening. It had started to disappear, as if something was eating up the moon bite by bite. The cave was growing darker with the night and Emrys' eyes glowed like sapphire.

Shadow marched on the walls and the moonlight retreated deeper into the cave.

'Arthur? I am scared...'

The sword hilt was slipping under his sweaty palm, despite the cold winter air.

The last ray burrowed into the crease of the stones. The cave was dark. The sky was dark.

Now!

Arthur raised the sword above his head and brought it down hard.

There was an ugly screech as metal and metal collided. Then Arthur felt something broke –

The cave was awash in a golden light. Every rock and every breach was encased in the golden halo. It felt so warm and light at the same time.

Arthur didn't notice the sword lying at the ground or his arms hanging limply by his side. Emrys tackled him to the ground and nuzzled him on the face and neck.

It was so warm and light. So right. And Emrys' eyes were gold.

The shrill eventually brought him back to the cold night. It was a harsh piercing sound like an animal dying; and the dying animal never stopped its scream–

It was an alarm. The chains must have been enchanted to prevent a flight.

Emrys nudged at the broken chain at his feet. At the slightest touch the entire manacle crumpled to dust.

The dragon' blue eyes widen in disbelief.

'You have to go now! It is an alarm! My father is coming!' Arthur shouted to the dragon sitting in shock in front of him.

The moon was coming back, illuminating the glittering tears on obsidian scales.

The alarm bells of Camelot joined the chorus.

'GO NOW!'

At the third prompting, the dragon finally took to the air.

'Thank you…Arthur…thank you.'

He swooped down and grabbed the sword in his jaw.

'Fly as far as you can go! Don't let my father get you again!'

Arthur….thank you…

The dragon turned for one last time at the opening. There he was, a silhouette so small and so bright at the top of the cave, wings flapping slow and fluid as he hovered before his freedom.

'Fly, you idiot!' Arthur shouted.

He thought he saw Emrys smiled.

Then the dragon vanished into the night.

* * *

><p>Arthur raced through the castle, heart throbbing at his throat.<p>

All along the corridors were disheveled servants looking blank or shocked at each other.

He heard the knights shouting in the training field as they gathered for the emergency. For the first time in his life, he was afraid of them.

He ran into a robe of dark red and stumbled. A strong hand gripped his arm.

'What are you doing here Arthur?' Gaius asked, his voice hoarse and out of breath, his face was deadly white.

'I…I… am watching the eclipse!' Arthur tried his best to look innocent; he hoped he had not stammered too much. His arm hurt and Gaius' knuckles had gone bone white.

'You need to get back your chamber immediately. And do not come out.'

Arthur hadn't realized he was nodding frantically. Gaius never sounded so frightening. Gaius finally let him go and Arthur staggered back to his chamber. He slammed the door behind him and leaned on it, slowly sliding on his back to the floor. His breath came out in shallow ragged gasp as his heart gradually started to slow.

He hoisted himself up and hobbled to the window. There beyond the market and the city wall was the snow-lit forest. The moon was back, a full circle bright in the dark.

And no Emrys.

He shivered against the mistral. It was the deep of the winter.

He saw the knights pouring into the market like a horde of red ants.

The warning bell had stopped, but the magical shrill hadn't.

Emrys?

There was a muffle in his head that sounded like Arthur, like Bernard talking to him when he was still dozy from sleep. Emrys was getting too far away for them to talk in the head. The knights couldn't be that fast. At least Emrys was safe now.

Remember your promise.

This time Arthur heard it clear and loud, as if Emrys was here in the chamber right beside him.

I promise.

* * *

><p>Disclaimer: I don't own anything.<p>

AN: Err…so what do you think?

I really don't want to let Emrys go so fast, but any longer it will be a drag for story. Little Arthur and Emrys will come back in the latter chapters I promise, there are still so many cute pictures I have in stock. So if you have any idea/scene about them you want to see, you can leave a review and I will try to make it happen.

Next chapter Uther would find out who let loose the dragon, and with great regret, kill his own son. Then Emrys would come back and rain hell on Camelot. Yelp end of story then. Or Uther found a scapegoat to blame and Arthur lived. Seriously? I think the first version is way cooler, but it's not going to happen.

As always, hope you enjoy the story and find the joy in writing.


	4. Chapter 4: Flight of the wind

Flight of the wind

* * *

><p>The next day the castle woke to a seemingly normal day.<p>

When Bernard coaxed him lightly on the shoulder in the morning, in the first few seconds Arthur thought it was just another day. But _no._

_Emrys._He just freed the dragon last night and woke the entire castle with the magical alarm.

Had they caught Emrys? Had the knights found him?

Dread seized his heart and Arthur slipped out of bed without second prompting from his servant. He missed the surprise flashing across Bernard's face.

_Emrys?_ He tried in his head. There was no answer. He hoped it was just because Emrys was too far to hear him.

He was _dying_to know if Emrys was alright, but he couldn't ask Bernard. A servant like him wouldn't know anyway.

Then he realized Bernard was acting strange.

Bernard's eyes were troubled and shifty, locking onto the floor if not darting here and there. A thin sheen of sweat shined on his forehead. Arthur wondered why he had looked so guilty and sniffed his breakfast suspiciously. He smelt hot stream and tasty smell of sausages.

'My prince…'Arthur looked up from his breakfast, cheek puffed up with boiled eggs. He was nervous and the food was tasteless. His servant asked in a small voice, 'Did you know what happened yesterday? About the alarm bell and strange shrill?'

'I was… sleeping…'Arthur's eyes widen in fear. He would have stammered even more if his mouth was not stuffed with food. He swallowed hard. 'You said alarm bell?' His heart was racing once again and he tried his best to look innocent.

'Yes.' Bernard assessed him, then shook his head dismissively and quickly added. 'But it is not important now.'

Arthur didn't understand. If it was unimportant Bernard would not have been so jittery. It was stupid. Asking about something in the first place and then dismissing your own question.

But he was relieved that he had not pressed into the matter.

As Bernard moved away to clean his chamber, Arthur didn't hear the servant muttering to himself- _Something must have happened. Something big. People are called into the council room one by one. I_ _would bet my salary on it. It has to do with the frigging shrill._

* * *

><p>Arthur did not see his father for an entire day. Servants and all other employees of the castle were summoned to the council room one by one, pale faced and shaking.<p>

They came out, one by one, even more paled face and shaky. Some maids were crying. He saw Gwen's mother comforting a seamstress and passing a handkerchief.

Morgana was annoyed at first because she couldn't show Uther her new ribbon, perching on her hair like a giant toad. Then she saw Gwen's mother, her maidservant tumbling out of the council room, breathless, her scowl was replaced with fear.

From time to time they would hear Uther's furious growl thundering out from the room. And everyone outside would cower in the king's wraith.

'What happened… Arthur?' Morgana tugged his tunic quietly. Her voice was small and trembling.

'I don't know…' His voice was quivering too, though his fear had come from a different reason.

An unsteady Bernard had asked Arthur to stop waiting at the stair, but Arthur refused. If everything happened to Emrys he would be first to know it here, outside the council room and his father.

Bernard ran away at a loud crash inside the room.

* * *

><p>That night when the council room opened, Morgana rushed forward with arms open for a hug.<p>

Uther had _slapped_ her so hard that she fell backward.

She froze, then ran away, doe eyed, crying.

Arthur ran after her, not risking an encounter with his father. Uther would _know_, if he looked him in the eyes.

He found her at her chamber weeping. The pink ribbon was a crumple on the floor. Without anything pink on her, she looked less disgusting.

When Arthur bid her good night she had returned him the slightest smile.

Suddenly he found Morgana less annoying.

* * *

><p>Arthur hadn't seen Gaius for a week.<p>

He hadn't really noticed it, nor the missed lessons, not until Bernard escorted him to the physician.

He gasped audibly and his mouth dropped open in shock. His tutor was _almost_ a different person.

His mighty brown maim was now scanty and littered with grey, hoarse and dry like straws. His lips were split and his nose was broken. His checks had hollered out, accentuating the dark bags under his eyes. A huge bruise, an angry dark purple patch, covered his right eye, which was half shut with the swelling on his brow.

When Gaius stood up to greet the prince, his robe almost slipped off his shoulder. Arthur winced; Gaius used to be on the fat side.

'What…' Arthur cleared his throat weakly to find his voice. 'What happened to you Gaius?'He slumped into his chair opposite Gaius.

'Just some accidents during herbs collecting.' Gaius waved his hand dismissively. His long sleeve fell, revealing a red band and ulcers on the skin around his wrist.

'But you were missing for an entire week!'

'I was lost.'

Gaius was _lost_? The physician had been visiting the forest every week for years. But Gaius' tone left no room for discussion.

Their teaching resumed as if nothing happened. Arthur found himself drowned in the tome once again.

'Where were you last week, when the alarm bell rang?' Gaius closed the book and asked casually.

The question caught Arthur so off guard that he had jumped in his seat.

'I…I was sleeping.' He _should_be sleeping right? Was that the right answer?

The physician held him in the eyes in a grave yet unfathomable look.

'Good. If anyone asks you will give the same answer.'

Gaius unnerved him. The prince nodded a hasty goodbye and fled.

It didn't occur to Arthur that he had met Gaius on the corridor that night.

* * *

><p>The terror lasted for weeks.<p>

It was his fault. Arthur hadn't thought it would end up like this.

Sure he expected his father to be angry, _very_ angry. But he had not expected this kind of horror in the castle.

Arthur could feel the unspoken tension. The way the sunlight was too bright but people still tried not to squint. The way the birds were chatting louder than the maids. The way greetings were too awkward and dramatic.

He could felt it inside of him, a constant sickening churning in his chest.

No one knew what had happened. Servants gossiped, lords whispered. And all sorts of ridiculous and outrageous rumors were formed. A sorcerer. A secret lover. A clandestine son. An assassin. A monster. A werewolf.

He wondered why father hadn't put an end to them and told the truth.

Every day he woke up, worried. If Bernard was too happy or jumpy he would fear Emrys was captured. He tried to read it in Bernard's eyes; any sign that would betray a dragon captured; or a prince's secret blown.

There was no news of the dragon nor his father's mysterious inquisition.

Every night the prince would look out at the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of the winged silhouette across the moon.

Children's lives went on as usual. He and Morgana and sometime Gwen would play in the castle, though he noticed the extra soldiers everywhere. There was no knight and therefore no monthly tournament to watch. He would spend more time with Morgana, who was still nervous around Uther.

To be honest, Arthur was afraid of his father too; the fire in his eyes, the fury in his voice, the brimstone in his steps. And he was the one to cause it...

* * *

><p>The knights returned on a snowless day. From his window Arthur saw no caged or decapitated dragon, and he rushed to meet up with the knights on the training field. They were sitting exhausted on the grass, helmets flung carelessly all around. There was no warm greeting or teasing when the prince arrived.<p>

Arthur reached Sir Leon tentatively, a young knight who was always nicer to him, but the man shook his mop of brown curls.

'I don't know, my prince. For an entire month I didn't know what I am doing. We are supposed to find and bring back something. But the king wouldn't tell us what it was. He said we would _know_ instantly when we saw it. We went to every corner of Camelot – ' he patted his worn out boot tiredly, a gaping hole had revealed the dirty socks within – 'and there was _nothing._Just bandits and more bandits.'

* * *

><p>Eventually the year had passed in fear and the snow thawed. The wind blew and the scent of flower filled the air.<p>

Mercia invaded Camelot in spring. His father directed his mind to the war at hand.

Once again the knights rode out.

Arthur saw their red caps poured out of the city like a red river.

It was a bitter victory. And the war between Mercia had never really stopped afterwards. There would be occasional but constant disputes, over lands, over business, over things Arthur didn't understand.

To the people of Camelot, the mystery of the alarm bell and fearful shrill on the night of the eclipse was never solved; but then war and floods and spring had put those memories behind.

The castle returned to normal, except Gaius, whose eyes were never the same size again.

Arthur didn't laugh at him.

When the two countries reached a standstill and the soldiers returned, Uther initiated his formal training with the knights of Camelot.

He was barely seven.

The war and the missing dragon had prompted Uther to raise his son faster, and harsher.

Every night Arthur would return to his chamber, his body arching and boneless. He would drop off to sleep immediately and one night he no longer dreamed of his dragon.

* * *

><p>The wind flew in a desperate race to catch up with the seasons. Flowers blossomed, fruit ripen and red leaves fell.<p>

When a crying Morgana crashed into his chamber and rudely shove him awake from his dream, he would tell her stories from the knights, stories from the books, or stories about a great knight named Arthur he made up. She never told him about her nightmare, but it didn't matter. He would wrap her in a blanket and protected her until the nightmares were too afraid to come near the prince and his ward.

The wind brought back the birds again, but Arthur, studying under the roof of the library was too busy to notice. The breeze that brought the young twigs also brought up the children.

Morgana and Gwen shot up through the summer, faster than the weeds that threatened to overwhelm the knight training field.

This created endless embarrassment for Arthur until he also came to his time.

He grew a strong back and a board shoulder. His armors never fit though he was having a new one every three month.

One usual day he squeezed Gwen's cheek playfully and found himself _burning_at the touch.

He noticed how Morgana's clothes had changed, from pink childish dresses to elegant gowns that showed her figure _really_well.

Everyone said Morgana was a beauty, and Arthur was the only one who noticed the black pearl next to her, glowing modestly and quietly all along.

He stopped calling Gwen by that name; It was not customary for the prince to befriend a servant' daughter. Besides, _Guinevere_, he rolled the name on his tongue and mused, was a prettier name, like a smooth silk and soothing wave. It suited her better.

One winter Gwen's mother caught the pneumonia. Guinevere became Lady Morgana's maidservant.

He stopped spending so much time with them. His princely education and training demanded all his attention and he didn't want to fail his father.

As Arthur grew into a better son for his father, Morgana grew rebellious. She would argue with Uther, especially when it concerned magic. She would sympathise with magic user, if the man hadn't been arrested for crimes other than sorcery. The conflict only intensified when time went by, until one day Uther had to lock Morgana in her chamber to end the quarrel.

Sometimes he saw it in her eyes, the disappointment when she turned to him with pleading eyes for support. Arthur was silent, mostly. He reminded himself his faith in his father was justified, whatever.

As times went, he saw his childhood friends blossomed into something _more,_while yet their friendship had become something _less._

* * *

><p>Years later when Morgause first came to the court, he realized how distant they had become.<p>

Morgana's nightmare hadn't stopped through the years. Though she had stopped banging into Arthur's chamber in the middle of the night, he knew she was still taking Gaius' tonic. It wasn't helping much, Gaius claimed it could have been worse, but Arthur had his suspicion.

Arthur was fifteen, the youngest knight in the history of Camelot. He knew he was competent enough for the title, his father had no biases when it came to the kingdom. Arthur was about to ride out with the rest of the knights to investigate on a rumor of a beast attack when Morgana rushed out of gate. Despite her good swordsmanship that Arthur never admitted, she never joined the knights on a mission as the lady of the court. Morgana threw herself at the feet of Sir Molicotti, the head knight of Uther, begging him not to go. Sir Molicotti, flustered and bewildered, tried to pry the lady from him, but Morgana had held onto his leg in a very un-lady manner.

'Please…don't go... The mission will kill you!' Morgana screamed between tears.

'Where do all these come from Morgana?' Perplexed, Arthur asked, frowning.

'I…I… dreamed of it…' Her face was red, not just from the tears.

The knights burst out laughing.

A now very confident Sir Molicotti straightened and mounted on his horse. Off Arthur went with the knights, laughing and holding their stomach.

Their laughter ceased when they were attacked by a giant bear. Frightened by the beast, Sir Molicotti's steed reared and thrown his master off its back, right into the flying paws of the bear.

The gashes on the sides were so deep Arthur could see the ribs.

All their attempts to quench the blood were futile, and Sir Molicotti slowly died at night, delirious and muttering about his wife and daughters.

When others had brushed it off as a coincidence, albeit a very creepy one, Arthur had knocked on Morgana' s door.

Her face was horrible, but she still didn't tell Arthur anything.

In the end, he gave up.

Wicked incident like that hadn't happened again.

* * *

><p>Every time Arthur rode back to Camelot after a mission, there, waiting at the city gate, would be Gwen. Sometimes it was Morgana and Gwen, but mostly it was just Guinevere.<p>

She curtsied to the prince in a fluid and graceful movement. 'Welcome back Arthur. The Lady Morgana sends you her regards.' Her corners of her lips rose into a gorgeous smile. Her eyes were warm and tender.

It pained him, the way he had to hid his feelings.

They would exchange as much as pleasantry they could without getting the knights perked up.

Arthur knew she didn't _just_come for Morgana's sake.

* * *

><p>Arthur killed his first man at fifteen. It was just weeks after he was official knighted.<p>

A bandit among a group of bandits attacking the patrolling soldiers. He had no hesitation in plunging the sword into the man's chest. Then he saw the man's eyes –

The fear and dawning realisation.

The pain and the pleading.

The final light as the green orbs lost their lustre forever.

Nothing stuck more than your first kill, the knights had said. And Arthur realised how true the words were.

Arthur pulled out the sword from the flesh just in time to count another blade swooping in.

It was a battle, a matter of life and death.

He couldn't afford to think.

* * *

><p>Arthur killed his first sorcerer a few months later.<p>

Against his father's wish, the Great Purge never managed to plunge the country clean of sorcery.

There were reports of sorcery every few months, and a direct magical attack on Camelot every few years.

Arthur would ride out with the knights to investigate, though Uther would be more pleased if he came back with a sorcerer's head. Most of them were simply personal conflicts evolved into a magical level and a certain unpopular person in the village would be denounced as a sorcerer. Rarely was there a real sorcerer seeking revenge after the Great Purge. After all the Purge had passed for years.

The particular sorcerer he killed was terrorizing an outlying village in Camelot, threatening the villagers into not spilling his secret should they care about the safety of their family.

Still a brave young widow had somehow evaded the pawns of the sorcerer guarding the village and ran all the way to Camelot, bringing back an army of knights back with her.

The sorcerer hit them with bouts of fireballs. Arthur rolled and dodged out of the way while ushering children and women to the safety. In spite of his impressive display of power, the sorcerer was soon fatigued and distracted against so many knights. Slipping behind the sorcerer's back, he finally seized the opportunity to slash out his sword.

The fine blade slid clean through the flesh, shuddering mildly as it split through the bones.

The sorcerer dropped onto the ground, dead.

The knights capped him on the back, congratulating him on saving the village. Arthur knew he was not as happy as he should be.

Sometimes_, just sometimes_, when his mind was tired and his mental barrier was low, the memories of Emrys would slip into his mind. The damage brought by magic, he had seen it first hand in abundance. Sometimes magic didn't seem to be evil, but this went against his father's teaching and he would dwell on it no more. Uther and Morgana had taken their stances and Arthur, clashed between the two of them, had tried hard not to.

There were dangerous thoughts he would not pursue.

That night after he killed his first sorcerer, he sat on the cot beside a warm fire in a hut of the village he had saved. He thought of Emrys again.

The woman brought in hot tea and the prince thanked her kindness. In the same way he had dealed with these long nights, he reviewed and reaffirmed the little grey space of doubt he had reserved for magic. He had come into terms with his once-relationship with the dragon long ago– its magic was bound by the manacle, so it was not evil at that time. Now the manacle was off, Emrys could be evil, or not, Arthur told himself he didn't care as long as the dragon didn't attack his people. Once his secret grey haven was safe, he could forget about it and sleep soundly.

* * *

><p>Then two years later Morgause came.<p>

The woman was rumoured to be a powerful sorceress, and Arthur knew it was no rumor.

She came with King Cenred as his councillor on the pretence of a peace talk between Camelot and Escetia.

Uther was livid to have a sorceress set foot in Camelot, but he couldn't risk angering Cenred and restarting the war.

The peace talk was tedious and boring. It lasted for months, during which Morgause had somehow grown close to Morgana.

She was almost twice Morgana's age and when she said she felt a kinship with the young girl, Arthur had literally split in her face. And Morgana had reacted very badly when he warned her of Morgause's true nature.

He spied them talking in secret in the shadow, locking together in an abandoned guest room all afternoon.

Magic was dangerous, and Morgana certainly wasn't known to tread carefully on this aspect.

Arthur no longer had the sway on her as he had years ago, when they were both children. He tried to get her to see sense but every attempt backfired. He blamed it on Morgana being a _female._

Eventually the peace treaty was signed and Morgause, whatever she was up to, had to leave with Cenred. Camelot got an exceptionally good deal out of the talk, claiming most of the lands long disputed between the countries.

But Morgana had changed.

It was the way her smile had lost their innocence. The way her eyes had gained something dark and dangerous in their lights.

He saw her sneaking out of the castle in the dead of the night and confronted her the next day.

'Please…please don't tell anyone.. Arthur.' She turned her brilliant green eyes on him and Arthur felt his heart melted, his grip on her wrist loosened. 'There was… there was…a man…at the lower town.'

_Oh._

'He… we…Just like you and Gwen…Arthur… what would you do?'

That was a low bow and Arthur flinched.

He had believed her, perhaps a bit too blindly, for secretly he was glad that Morgana had confided in him.

He let her go, thinking that by helping her, their friendship could bring her back someday.

* * *

><p>But Morgana just kept on slipping away from him.<p>

She was seeing Morgause, Arthur should have known long ago. And Morgana had magic. He should have heard Guineverve muttering about the strange gale that kept on smashing Morgana' s vases at night. Or that wicked fire that broke out for no reason.

The guards captured a druid child, separated from his caretaker on the market.

Uther denounced the child for committing treason and was to be burned at the pyre the next day.

Morgana, of course had protested and _screamed._

Arthur couldn't bring himself to side with his father this time.

In the end Morgana was locked in her chamber again and Arthur was sternly suggested to leave the council room.

He gladly obeyed.

That night the alarm bell rang.

He got to the dungeon instinctively and saw Morgana and Druid boy she freed stopped by two guards.

'Arthur please…let us go.' Morgana begged, her eyes were sincere and painful.

Arthur hesitated.

And it was too long for Morgana and the druid boy.

Uther arrived at the scene.

Without a word, he beheaded the boy.

Morgana _screamed._

'_You are a coward Arthur. You are just like Uther!'_

Uther had her locked up in a cell in the dungeon with the headless dead child.

'Good job Arthur.' Uther smiled and he didn't feel proud. The blood of the druid boy was still pooling on the floor.

Deep in the dark bowel of the castle, Morgana was still screaming.

* * *

><p>The next day, he went down to the dungeon, dreadful.<p>

The two guards were dead, their necks cracked at odd angle against the wall.

There was no Morgana.

The cell that once held her was a chaos, scratch mark and scorch mark were everywhere on the wall. The bars were bent as if ripped apart by a giant hand. The door was blown off its hinge, _from the inside._

Uther made Arthur swear he would find the sorcerers who kidnapped Morgana.

Uther would burn down the forest to flush out the druids and the accomplice of the druid boy.

Arthur knew it would be futile. She wasn't kidnapped.

Weeks later Arthur returned.

Arthur didn't find her.

Uther sent more search parties and increased the bounty.

He didn't bring her back.

She didn't come back to him.

One year later the villages began to burn. 

* * *

><p>Disclaimer: I don't own anything, Okay?<p>

Author's note: Thanks everyone for reviewing/following. You all are so amazing. It is great fun to hear how you think of the plot. And I love speaking nonsense…but let's be serious this chapter. (*pouting)

So here is the backstage of the second part of the story. This chapter was easy to draft, but very difficult to write. I apologise if this chapter is boring, but its information is essential. As you see, the villain was 'different' and Arthur was different. Arthur was slightly more open-minded about magic than in the show, but still I would have Merlin hiding, because… that was fun. My take was Arthur would not kill Emrys, but he would not allow him to stay in Camelot because that meant accepting not all magic would harm Camelot and that would destroy the way he saw the world, the worldview he grown up with and taught by his most significant other Uther. To the others Arthur was an obedient son, to himself he was doubting, but deep inside he was in denial. It would be devastating to accept everything your country stood for was wrong all along, so Arthur kind of just put the thoughts aside and didn't think much about them. Of course, he would, gradually, _later._

After this boring chapter, someone was coming back…Then after that chapter there will be rewrites of some episodes from the show fitting this story. I have five or six in mind/ on progress, but if you have any episode you really like, just shout it out. Child Arthur and Emrys would come back too, so again you can leave some suggestions.

Oh have I said I have finished finals? That means updates are faster in holiday!

Yesterday I watched Night at the Museum: Secret of the Tomb. All I can think of is Lancelot, Lancelot and Lancelot…


	5. Chapter 5: As the stars aligned

As the stars aligned

* * *

><p>King Uther was a battle-hardened warrior renowned among the five kingdoms. He faced countless bandits, sorcerers, armies, knights, kings and had emerged victorious; he would not let fear seize him today. With a look that sent everyone in his path cowering, he sprinted through the castle, his bloody red cap of Camelot burrowing behind him like wings flapping manically. He clashed into the Court Physician's chamber, only one name in his mind-<p>

Arthur

His council had been disrupted when a disheveled servant banged in and informed him that Prince Arthur was carried into the city gate unconscious.

The door banged close dangerously loud behind him, but King Uther's voice still drowned it.

'Arthur! Arthur!'

He rushed to the blonde figure lying on the bed; his son looked so small in the centre of the large chamber, though he knew Arthur was already taller than him. He had taken up his father powerful built, the body of a warrior, the iron will of a knight. He was going to be fine.

'My lord.' Gaius politely addressed the king. He hadn't noticed the old man standing by the bed, and another dark-haired young man behind him by the table, whom he didn't recognise.

'How is he, Gaius?' He spoke low and urgent, a hint of threat he always carried in his voice.

'The young man over there found him unconscious in the forest. He recognised signs of snakebite and applied wolfsbane immediately. It slowed the toxins progression until I could properly apply the antitoxins here. I would say he saved his life, my lord. Arthur should wake up in a day and he will be fine in a week.'

Uther nodded. This settled everything. Now there were trivial things to address.

'Who are you young man?' He scrutinized the man in front of him. He couldn't be older than Arthur. Judging from his dirty clothes he was a pleasant, and he was thin for a pleasant. Another poor peasant then, the kingdom had endless supply of those. He sure was lucky to have save the prince.

'My name is Merlin, sire.'

'Are you from Camelot?'

'No Sire, I was born in Ealdor, a village at the edge of Cenred's kingdom, but I had travelled a lot since my parents died.' Orphan peasant, they seemed to plague every kingdom, Uther thought without letting it show.

'Are you a healer?'

'No Sire, I only know bits and scratches, Gaius is the true healer here, the greatest of all. I have always been interested in the art of healing. I learnt from the healers of the various villages I visited. The black lesion on the prince's ankle was a classical sign of a poisonous snakebite.'

'Indeed, young man.' Gaius nodded.

'It is an honor to meet you again Gaius.'

'We have met before?' Gaius stared into the man's deep blue eyes, they did seem familiar.

'Yes Sire, at the village of Cavth when there was a plague last year. I had inquired on how to treat a skin disorder with scaly black rash.'

Gaius' brow furrowed in confusion for a long time, then a dawning realization spread across his face.

'Oh. It's you! I didn't do anything about it; the black rash disappeared by itself suddenly,' Gaius turned towards his king, 'the young man here had a great aptitude for herbs and healing. I would like to take him as my apprentice.

Uther stroke his chin, undaunted by the sudden development of the event. 'I was going to award him the position of Arthur's manservant. But now …'

'Sire, I am deeply honoured. 'Merlin bowed to the king first in accordance to court manners, but Uther noticed how his bow to the physician was lower. It didn't seem deliberate though, or the boy would be punished accordingly, saving his son or not. 'It would be my greatest privilege to be both Prince Arthur's servant and Gaius' apprentice.'

'That will be tremendous workload. Prince's servant is not a job to be taken lightly.' Uther stared at the boy in the eyes, surprised that his had not flattered.

'Being my apprentice will not take up too much time, considering that he already knows the basic. Arthur can benefit with a servant who knows some healing.' Gaius reassured the king. The physician was strangely eager in this, but Uther heeded it not. He had urgent matters to discuss back in the council.

'So be it.' Uther said with finality, already turning to leave.

'Sire! There was another knight. His body was still in the forest.' The boy shouted out from behind.

Uther grunted and slammed the door behind him.

* * *

><p>When Arthur woke up it was night. He couldn't get out of bed and his head was constantly churning and crunching. He suspected it had more to do with Gaius' foul potion than the bite. That wasn't a snake, more like a monster with two heads of a snake. He couldn't remember if he had killed it though. He could only remember with a sinking heart that Sir Garth didn't make it. The horror of knowing he had a new manservant who was more horrible than he had dared to imagine only made it worse. Uther had informed him of the shocking news as soon as he had twitched a single of his eye muscle.<p>

Sure, dumped everything on him so he could go back to his own business.

There was a large clash and a man with a goofy grin fell down to his vision, and the owner of the grin had somehow pinched onto his elbow and was supporting his entire body weight on that joint. Too weak to cry out, father had mistaken his grimace as the headache from waking up. Save the scare for Hallow's Eve, father.

His new servant talked non-stop when Gaius changed his bandages. At least it distracted him from the gruesome pus.

His servant had just put him to sleep, not without hurting all the stiff joints and bandaged wounds he had. The bed was horribly made, how could he sleep in that? A shame that he couldn't turn around himself.

Then they started talking.

'I still can't believe I am seeing you again.'

'Me too, Gaius. I am sorry I left without a word.'

'Was it Arthur.' It wasn't question.

'Yes' It was barely audible.

'He might seem different but deep inside he is still the same.'

'I know... Even though he has killed…Gaius. I have faith in him. That's why I come back. I feel that he will need me.'

Arthur didn't understand. Gaius and Merlin seemed to have more than professional exchange back in Cavth. And his name was mentioned, somehow.

His head was throbbing. He shouldn't be eardropping. He was sure of Gaius' loyalty and judgment, despite how obnoxious he could get; He would forget this overheard dialogue. His head didn't let him remember much anyway.

* * *

><p>This was official. Arthur had the worst servant in all five kingdoms. What had he done to deserve that?<p>

Old Bernard had taught the new servant everything he should know before leaving. That didn't stop the man from acting like a complete idiot.

'_Mer_lin! Where is my belt?'

'_Mer_lin! Where is my breakfast?'

'It is right in front of you Sire.'

'This cannot be called breakfast!'

'_Mer_lin! Where are you!'

At least dear Bernard got to retire his arthritic leg.

* * *

><p>Patrolling the lower town wasn't one thing Arthur enjoyed, though it certainly ranked higher than bumping around in the forest at night, fending off mosquitoes more vicious than bandits.<p>

The people in front parted way for him, mothers ushered their children off the street, like a herd against a sheepdog, respectful and slightly fearful.

'People have to be constantly reminded of who is in charge.' His father boomed on his throne.

Not that Arthur completely agreed with him.

Sometimes he felt like he was intriguing into their private lives, that they would be better off without him haunting their doors.

He wished they could just meet his eyes.

His servant trailed behind, whipping his head around here and there, drizzling everything everyone with his naïve grin.

Of course, he wouldn't stop chattering.

'Hey look Arthur! There is a wagon!'

'Hey look Arthur! That is llama!'

'Arthur! Arthur! You've got to see this!'

Arthur wished he could just stick the large carrot he had fluttered over into his mouth. Had this man _never _been to a market? His manservant defied common sense in many ways, his idiocy, his blatant disrespect for the rules, Arthur gradually realized to his horror, was just the tip of the iceberg.

_There was something about him…_

Arthur's musing was abruptly and revoltingly cut off when he knocked over and stepped onto something _soft –_

He blanched; the corporeal thing under his boot gave a characteristic meshing sound as he lifted his foot, like stepping out of a thick mud, and if only it was mud…

His servant made no attempt to hide his amusement. His face was filled with awe and humor.

'Arthur! You just step into a bucket of manure!'

Who the hell left manure in the middle of the road!

The answer to Arthur's question felled onto his knees as he saw his farming material all over the trousers and boots of a well-dressed man.

'I…I…I… am sorry m..my…my lord…'

'Do you know who I am?' Arthur bellowed. _'Arthur…' _The prince sprang his head to the one who dared to contradict him. Merlin opened his mouth to continue, but a death glare was enough to make him decide otherwise.

'Do you know who I am?' Arthur directed his question once again at the man trembling at his feet. Looking down he could see the manure caking his boots and seeping into his trouser, feel the horrible wetness plastering against his skin. That was _disgusting! Unacceptable!_

'I don't…forgive me my lord…'

'I am the prince of Camelot and you are to report to me at noon straight tomorrow. UNDERSTAND?' He roared into the foolish man's ear, seizing him by the collar so that he couldn't flinch.

With one last powerful strove the stuttering man fell onto the ground.

The fuming prince stomped back to the castle. He couldn't keep on wearing those blasted things so he tossed the boots to his servant. Just to give him his fair share of manure, he certainly deserved it.

His manservant, who couldn't take his punishment like a proper servant, voiced out his complaint.

'You shouldn't do that Arthur –'

'His bloody manure spilled all over me!'

'It was just an accident Arthur. You can't punish the man for that.'

'I am the prince. I _can.'_

'_You can. _That doesn't mean you _should_. _'_

But then Arthur had slammed the door on his face.

* * *

><p>Contrary to what his servant must be thinking of him now, Arthur wasn't a bully.<p>

As he sank into a nice warm bath and felt the stream flushed his face, he reflected his action earlier today was…not entirely satisfactory.

It was just so easy to slash out just because he could.

Because there were moments when he could not, when he felt more powerless a common peasant, or a caged animal.

* * *

><p>The man never thought he would leave the castle unscratched.<p>

And his pocket was now slightly but very contentedly heavier with a silver coin – a compensation for his spilled manure.

And what's more - the prince of Camelot had apologized to him!

With a radiant beam on his face, he set forth to spread the news everywhere.

* * *

><p>That night his servant brought him his favorite meal – streak and broth.<p>

So the man did know what he liked to eat, but he just didn't bring it. He was going to muck out his stable tomorrow for that.

As the prince took his meal, the servant blathered about the gossips of servants, knights, the town and Gaius.

Arthur just wanted some peace of mind. Uther wasn't happy with his decision - 'A prince must never apologise to a lowly peasant…blah'

'The man you freed, I heard him talking to the guards about how great a prince you are –'

Arthur looked up from his broth. There Merlin was watching him, expectant, with that perpetual grin of his, smiling so wide that his eyes were two smiling slits.

'Do you know what I have been telling you the entire night?'

'Huh?'

'Sure you are deaf. It is _shut up Mer_lin!'

'That's my way of showing approval –'

'I don't need your approval-' 'everyone needs approval- ' '-Shut up!'

Merlin huffed, _loudly._

The prince rubbed his temple, exasperated. There were a lot on his mind and he just wanted to enjoy his dinner quietly.

Somehow the man had understood, for he gave him a smile and gathered the plates to leave.

'Hurry off Merlin, before I decide to put you in the stock.'

Arthur threw a bundle of grapes to him, which he caught, pecking a small nibble as he closed the door softly.

That was Arthur's way of saying thank you.

* * *

><p>There was a gentle knock at the door. It couldn't be Merlin because he would just banged open the door without regard of what the prince might be doing.<p>

He still hadn't got over that she was now a seamstress in the castle, a less than satisfactory job after being maidservant of the King's ward. But that was the only way she could stay.

Her head dipped in respect. She was beautiful in her purple dress and the lovely black curls hugged her face. He felt the urge to touch her cheek, _just once_.

'My lord. I just want to say – I heard what happened in the lower town yesterday. You did well Arthur.'

Arthur snorted without heat. 'You have so little faith in me.'

A soft laughter escaped her and her eyes smiled at him. At the eye contact she immediately lowered her head, bashful. He wished he could just cup her face and hold her eyes to his. But never did he find the courage, even if the corridor was now deserted. He told himself, it wasn't just his honor at sake.

'Good night, my lord. I wish you well.' She made a courtesy and hurried off like a startled fawn.

Alone, he leaned on the door, staring the now empty corridor.

* * *

><p>Things fell into a rhythm.<p>

Despite what Arthur kept saying to others, he had not fired his manservant .

Because Merlin was also Gaius' apprentice, he told himself. Arthur had no doubt the old man would strangle him if he expelled his ward.

It astonished the prince to see how the relationship between his servant and the physician had grown.

It was just a month since the man had come and he could see the changes in Gaius.

The court physician left his chamber more often, even when he had no patient to attend to, he would just wander around the castle. Arthur knew he was trying to see Merlin.

Gaius had looked younger, though the lines on his face had not ceased, there was more energy to his steps, more life to his smiles. And, yes, he had smiled more often.

Arthur knew Merlin _loved _Gaius. He would spend all of his free time with the physician, in the chamber, to do rounds in the towns, to collect herbs in the forests. The prince watched them from the window, a spring in the young man's step, as the pair strolled towards the market.

And there was the way his eyes seemed to have put down all guards. Merlin only showed such eyes to Gaius.

Then Arthur thought of his father and closed the curtain.

* * *

><p><strong>The creature in his pocket skirmished, Arthur pressed his hand over the visible budge. The servants were only mildly interested as the young prince skipped down the corridor.<strong>

**Getting onto the ledge was harder than normal, his concentration kept lapsing to his pocket, at least it had stayed still for now.**

**Emrys was waiting at their usual spot, pawing on the loose gravels on the rocks and shuffling the larger stones back and forth. Upon seeing the prince, the dragon flicked the stones away with its tail and closed their distance in few scruffy trots, half-opened wings bumping along its flank.**

'**What's the animal you have talked about!' Emrys beamed at the prince. **

**Arthur felt his pocket. His heart leaped. Was it gone? Had it just jumped off?**

**Then his finger touched something tough and he smiled.**

**Fishing out from his pocket, he proudly presented to the dragon – a lizard.**

**The lizard was an inconspicuous green as long as the six-year old's palm with hard goosebumps all over its body. It wriggled on his palm as Arthur used his free hand to hold onto its mid-section.**

**The dragon shifted his head to the lizard and wide blue eyes stared. The tiny reptile had gone rock still at the close inspection of the larger creature. Then Emrys sniffed at it –for a moment Arthur was afraid the lizard would be sucked in… and he had no intention of seeing a dragon picked his nose afterwards – and he sneezed, spilling smoke and mucus onto Arthur's palm.**

**Ewww!**

**Arthur shook his hand and the lizard immediately leaped onto the ground, darting towards the nearest piles of rocks. Emrys exclaimed in surprise and ran after fugitive, tripping over his tail in the process and landed in a heap on the ground.**

**With an expression of utter horror of his face, Arthur walked to the dragon and proceeded to mop his hand on the dragon's scale. The mucus didn't stick onto the smooth scales, but they did on the wing.**

'**What are you doing!' Emrys twisted his neck and tried to bite off the offending hand. Arthur laughed.**

**In a very annoyed dragon look, Emrys flapped his wing in vain to shake the mucus off.**

'**You prat!' The prince leaped out of his pou****n****cing range, laughing.**

'**And that's the lii-zard- animal you said?'**

'**Yea... And people call dragon **_**the flying lizard**_**.'**

'**Nah, we have nothing similar.' Emrys folded his wing back on his shoulder, wincing at the contact. Given up, he placed his sno****u****t onto the ground and coiled up to his tail, looking very miserable. **

**Arthur had to agree with him. Lizard was not as cute.**

* * *

><p>'What kind of parents named their children after a bird?'<p>

'Well, at least I am not Chicken.' Merlin smiled in that goofy way of his.

'You are really a birdbrain aren't you?' Arthur could only stare incredulous and resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Suddenly it came to his mind that Merlin's parents were _dead_. He felt awful.

Merlin just shrugged and continued walking noisily on the leaves.

They were hunting in the forest. Or not really, considering that Arthur hadn't caught anything.

His servant had the talent of finding every crispy leaf and stick and stepped right on them, thus generating the loudest noise ever possible.

All right, Arthur told himself, this only added a new layer of difficulty, but apparently this was too challenging even for the greatest warrior of Albion.

In a forest teeming with lives, they had managed to avoid any sign of breathe for hours, thanks to his servant.

The birds were mocking the sweating pair from the lush summer trees.

He kicked a pebble on the ground in frustration, watched in mild satisfaction as it skipped all the way through the clearing – and startled a rabbit in the bush where it landed.

In a bolt of white, the agile hunt was gone.

Merlin looked at Arthur with a knowing grin and he was about to say something when –

Bandits shot out from nowhere. One second Arthur was mourning the loss of his hunt then the next second there was a group of armed men in front of him – Five faces-twisting, teeth-baring, swords-waving men.

Sword in hand, Arthur proceeded to cut down the bandits one by one. Years of footwork practice blocked him bows after bows, and his prized instinct seized the opportunities to deliver a fatal stroke.

One well aimed blow was enough.

Three down, two to go.

Arthur turned around for the last two bandits, only to find them unconscious on the ground with two suspicious looking sticks beside their head.

Arthur frowned. That's incredible luck.

His servant emerged from behind a tree, smiling sheepishly with a strange light in his eyes.

Then the bush scuffled once now. Arthur raised his sword and shifted into battle position –

Out jump from marsh was a lizard, a tree lizard, one which would probably be large enough to frighten a cat but _definitely_ not a man –

But Merlin yelled in surprise and fell off a leafy slope, fraying all the way down.

Arthur saw the man sat up dazed, legs sprawling wide as he split out a leaf.

'Enjoy your slide?' Arthur shouted, hands on his waist. 'Care to get your clumsy self back here before more bandits return?

He then sat down and sprang his feet over the slope.

'Maybe you can join –'Merlin mumbled, followed by a painful yelp and shouted– 'I twisted my ankle!'

Arthur cursed. He had to correct himself. No way was he lucky.

* * *

><p><strong>It was Arthur's idea.<strong>

**The prince had inspected the rock slope before him and deemed it not **_**too**_** dangerous.**

**In a graceless tumble, he had managed to get down to the bottom. His knees hurt where it had hit a rock or two, but now he had arrived! It was the mysterious bowel of the cave!**

**Emrys' black hide blended perfectly into the shadows, only his glowing blue eyes could show Arthur his location.**

**There was nothing at the depth, just as Emrys had said, just stones, rocks and pebbles. Nothing for the prince to see, who was trying his best not to trip in the dark. **

**So the first great adventure of the Prince of Camelot was very short. **

**Getting down was **_**easy, **_**but getting back up was another problem.**

**In the end Emrys had to **_**fly**_** Arthur back to the entrance, his claws latching onto the shirt and trousers of the prince to lift him to the air. With each laborious wing beat, Arthur saw the sharp rocks below moving closer and further away and drifting in and out of focus. He closed his eyes to quench the nausea and fear. When they landed graceless at the entrance, Emrys swore his wings were going to fall off and complained Arthur was too fat, fatter than a **_**gwilym**_**. Arthur was too pale to complain.**

**Emrys never stopped calling him fat afterwards.**

* * *

><p>'Are you serious? It is just a lizard!'<p>

'Yes _it is a lizard_.' Arthur glared dagger at his servant, whose face was contorted with barely held back laughter. What's so funny about that? Maybe he had hit his brain rolling the way down.

There was absolutely nothing funny about what was happening now – The prince thought sorely as he felt Merlin's dead weight on his shoulder.

'_Mer_lin, it seems I have underestimated you again.'

'What?'

'Your weight.'

'What!'

'Your uselessness.'

'That's from a man who can't dress himself.'

They were limping on the road at a snail's pace – Arthur took Merlin's arm around his neck, hand around his wrist to help him through the bumpy terrain of the forest.

The sundown was over them quickly, they began to struggle to see the road ahead. They were silent with tiredness.

A disguised root, and they fell as one on the ground.

'Idiot,' Arthur hissed, but otherwise didn't comment, pulling Merlin up.

He didn't let go once they were standing either.

'Why don't you just leave me here?'

'No chance. You can't even survive in daylight.'

When they got back to Camelot, it was nightfall.

'Thanks you Arthur.'

The prince just grunted in response.

* * *

><p>Disclaimer: I haven't received Merlin as my christmas present.<p>

AN: Sorry. I wished I could have updated sooner. But holiday threw my time management away.

Err, I hope I have not overdone it this chapter. The poopoo idea isn't the brightest, I know. Just something silly after the serious last chapter. Not much really happens, just building the characters relationship so you can expect everyone to be friends in the latter chapters.

As you have probably noticed, my chapter titles are pretty random. Basically I write whatever comes to my mind, like when the nine/eight planets align on a straight line, Mary Sue will marry Gary Sue and create a super baby of doom.

Next will be the episode rewrites- the ones who started it all.

Next chapter - Amaranth, see if you can guess which episode it is based on. It is about Uther receiving flowers from a secret admirer - who is that? Arthur was jealous of course and Merlin was bitter. Gaius seemed to be spending lots of time in the royal garden…The clock was ticking – will Uther confess his love before it was too late? XD Havn't seen an episode like this? Me neither. The more unlikely my summary is…you know what it means...but the title is real though. Guess!

And oh my god! Holy mother of Camelot! Your reviews are so amazing! My ego just soared high up to the sky with reindeers and pelicans. If I was a bird, I would sing for you every morning!

And Happy New Year and belated Merry Christmas!


	6. Chapter 6 : Amaranth

Amanarth

* * *

><p>It was official. There was something going on with Gaius.<p>

Something _fishy._

Arthur could only stare at the uncommon scenario of the court physician carrying a basket pilled with vegetables, meat pieces and an entire fish, dumbfound as he walked by.

'You are trying a different kind of remedy?' Arthur asked, brows raised in curiosity.

'No. These are for dinner. ' Gaius chuckled, his own brows immediately put the prince's to shame.

'You never cook – No, you haven't cooked for years.'

'Indeed, that is correct. I have picked up the old habit again recently and it has been three months since I got an apprentice. A special meal will be fitting.'

'But these are enough for four people.'

'Ah. Some of them may not made it to the table – In case my dishes taste like my concoction – believe me, I know what they taste like. So I intend to practice a bit first.'

'You are really fond of Merlin.' Arthur shook his head.

'You may say so. And it seems you don't share my sentiment? Gaius challenged him with his eyebrows again.

'I can't _imagine._' He huffed in exasperation. He couldn't win this.

Gaius chuckled in victory.

'What does he think of me?' The question just slid out, unbidden before he realized he _did_ care about the answer. Arthur swallowed.

'He says you are a prat –' Arthur snorted –'but you will be a great king someday.'

'The last bit goes without saying.'

* * *

><p><strong>Emrys circled around Arthur, head tilted in puzzlement and nostrils flaring.<strong>

**Arthur tried to turn around and kept up with his dragon and found this very dizzying.**

**Emrys suddenly took off and tried to land on the prince's shoulder, the weight immediately sending them toppled onto the ground.**

'**Ouch!'**

'**What are you doing!'**

'**Arthur you smell different.'**

**Arthur pulled his collar to his face and took a deep breath. **

'**I just have grilled meat on a picnic.'**

'**Smell good!'**

'**Taste even better!'Arthur flashed him a devilish smile.**

**Emrys huffed and began to sniff at Arthur with renewed rigor. It really was ticklish to have muzzle running along his face and neck. Arthur ended up laying on the ground, body contorting with laughter.**

* * *

><p>The blue of Mercia clashed with the red of Camelot.<p>

King Bayard of Mercia and his knights strode towards Camelot in an arrow formation, their steps echoed in the great hall, loud if not slightly threatening. Standing alongside Uther and the knights in the same formation, Arthur sneered to himself secretly.

Like they wanted to start a war right _here._

When the tips of the arrows collided, the two kings shook hands.

Arthur was painfully aware that this treaty, like many Camelot had signed, would not last.

Camelot and Mercia had been at war with each other for as long as he could remember. There were border dispute at the north which were never resolved. And they would never be, although they were _now _signing peace treaty. Bayard was an opportunist; he would invade those lands again whenever it suited him. A common enemy for the kingdom, namely Camelot, was what kept the Mercia people under his king.

In a way, persecution of magic had served a similar purpose in Camelot.

Arthur _preferred_ to be a different king.

The people should obey the king willingly, voluntarily, gladly for his justice and mercy, not for fear.

He wouldn't dominate his people, he would rule with them.

Terror ruled, but at what cost? He had ridden out to the controversial lands, years of war had turned it barren. Not even animals would live in the once futile fields.

Uther would say he was unrealistic, that such a deed could not be done without a great risk to the kingdom. Absolute authority, he said, which was tantamount to fear for Arthur, kept people in line.

Arthur wondered if it was wisdom of years or just cowardice from ages.

Of course he kept his mouth shut and squeezed out a smile for King Bayard.

* * *

><p>The feast would be boring. That meant Arthur would have to create some kind of entertainment himself.<p>

He had thoroughly enjoyed the moment he showed the servant's official ceremonial garment to Merlin. The man was frozen in terror, his eyes incredulous and his smile paralysed.

'Arthur – you can't serious!' Merlin stared at the well-feathered hat, horrified in disbelief.

'Do I look like I am joking?' Arthur deliberately banished the abomination in front of his servant. He was barely holding back the laughter, but he kept his voice calm and _serious._

_It was going to be so much fun._

When Merlin shown up at the feast looking like he had a gigantic turkey perched on his head, Arthur praised himself for his artistic eyes – the hat suited him perfectly. He was a birdbrain after all.

If he wasn't a prince, maybe he could be an artist. He would be a tremendous success; he gave a mental nod of approval to himself and a physical nod to King Bayard as he rose for his speech.

Arthur had heard the same speech more than a dozen of time, in numerous variations from numerous kings and lords. He felt his attention slipping as the foreign king turned his back to the prince and addressed the nobles and knights. His eyes found his servant and Arthur smirked as he watched Merlin wrenched the hat off heatedly.

'In token of our newfound friendship, I present a pair of ceremonial goblets to King Uther and Prince Arthur.'

Arthur perked up upon the mention of his name. King Bayard lifted a silvery goblet from a velvet box. It was a fine ware with delicate graving of excellent craftsmanship. A shame that it was still going to his storeroom anyway.

A maid of Mercia filled his goblet as another tended to Uther's. She was fair, he noted absentmindedly, but not as beautiful as Guinevere.

'A toast. For Camelot. For Mercia. For our friendship. ' King Bayard called. Arthur raised his goblet in anticipation of the feast ending –

'_Stop Arthur it is poisoned!_'

A shout vibrated through the hall. Arthur didn't have time to turn to the familiar voice before Merlin snatched the goblet from his hand.

'_What _are you doing _Merlin!_' Arthur growled savagely. He couldn't understand why he had chosen the worst moment to make a joke and – where was his hat?

'The cup was laced with poison!' Merlin proclaimed, looking at Arthur directly in the eyes.

'It is_ outrageous!_ What are you implying boy?I would not let this insult go unchallenged.' Bayard bellowed, hand on the hilt of his sword. Before him, all Mercia knights copied the action.

'I don't mean –'

'What evidence do you have?'Uther cut him off and questioned, taken control of the situation. Arthur saw Merlin flattered and looked down at his feet. His father could sound threatening without raising his voice.

'I – I – it doesn't smell right…' Merlin's voice trailed off into a whisper. The hall burst into laughter.

'Are you a dog boy…' a noble snickered as his companion leaned on him, bending in laughter.

'Merlin apologise!' Arthur raised his voice over the clamor, but the man gave him a slight but firm shake of the head.

Uther raised his hand and the hall died down instantly, like head on a guillotine. Imposingly he took the goblet and paced towards Bayard, the foreign king faced his challenge with his chin held upright.

'If you are telling the truth, you have nothing to fear.' Uther trailed off meaningfully. Bayard held out his hand for the cup. Uther turned away. 'No. The boy will drink it.'

'He will die if it is poisoned!' Arthur complained. Surely his father couldn't be doing that?

'If it is not, you will have the boy.' Uther ignored his son and addressed with Bayard.

Arthur was about to speak up again when Merlin ruined it. 'That's fine. I will drink it.'

He took the goblet from Uther and downed it in one gulp.

For several tense seconds, the man just stood in the centre of the hall as confusion slowly crept onto his feature. For a moment, Arthur actually believed Merlin had made a mistake, that he was a victim of an elaborate plank, that he had entered a bet with someone and lost. He was relieved.

'It's fine…' Arthur heard his servant whispered and he just wanted to roll his eyes and chucked his idiotic head.

Then his bewildered look was abruptly replaced by one of pain as Merlin's hand flew to his throat and he began to choke.

He collapsed limbless onto the floor, the goblet clinking loud.

The hall spiraled into a chaos. Knights from both sides drew their swords, thirsty for a fight.

Arthur heeded none of it. He felt fear. Only fear.

'Merlin! Merlin!' He fell on his knees and slapped his servant on his cheek, much harder than his usual playful clap, but his friend wasn't responding. His eyes fluttered half closed as his breath became harsher. 'Someone get Gaius!' He barked.

Vaguely he heard someone told him to get his servant to the physician's chamber, Arthur was racing down the corridor with Merlin on his back before he realizing where he was going.

* * *

><p>Before sunset, Arthur was already riding out of the city gate. The castle guards tried to stop him, no doubt under Uther's order, but Arthur just prompted his steed to go faster.<p>

'_I forbid you to go on this fool's errand.' His father was icy cold, his voice, his eyes and his mind. Arthur was burning._

'_Are you saying his life is unimportant?'_

'_No. But not as important as yours. Morgana is gone and you are my only son.'_

_He felt his anger flared. Morgana was gone –partly it was Uther's fault, because it was his murder of the druid boy that pushed Morgana over the edge. Morgana was coming back to him… before Uther sent her to the darkness. _

_And partly it was his fault too… _

_Arthur was angry, but he had picked up the messes and faced consequence of their failure. He was hunting down Morgause when Uther insisted they should interrogate the druids. Uther never listened. He never believed._

_It might be too late for Morgana. He had felt the villages burnt. But Merlin was waiting in the chamber, dying._

_He would not fail his friend this time. _

_He would get the antidote for Merlin. _

There was no stopping him when Arthur, already geared in armour stormed out of the throne room and mounted on his steed at the stable.

The sun fell behind him as the prince of Camelot sped towards the Mountain of Isgard.

* * *

><p>'<strong>Fat Emrys!' Arthur giggled. He thought the name was funny. <strong>

**Emrys sent him a dead glare but otherwise didn't comment. He was too busy eating.**

**Emrys told him dragon didn't really need to eat. Arthur thought it was weird but it didn't deter him from bringing a sausage to the dragon.**

**Nothing compared to the grilled meat, but it was much easier to sneak a roll of sausage down his handkerchief when Bernard wasn't looking. And grilled meat was a rare treat, even for him.**

**Arthur unrolled the sausage from his oily handkerchief. After spending half of the day in his pocket, the sausage had grown wrinkles and was giving off a strong smell. Tiny swirls of dust stuck onto its surface like many thin worms. Eww, did he eat something like that every day?**

**Emrys had finished off half of sausage. He looked between Arthur and his remaining half back and forth.**

'**Do you want it?' He asked finally.**

**Not really, but Arthur was a bit hungry because he had spent all his food running around with Morgana and Gwen this afternoon. It wouldn't hurt, so Arthur took the remaining sausage.**

**Emrys watched jealously as the sausage disappeared into his mouth.**

**The sausage didn't taste any different to Arthur.**

**But that night he had a diarrhea.  
><strong>

* * *

><p>It wasn't Bayard. Bayard wasn't that stupid to use a poison with immediate effect to have him caught red-handed while still in Camelot. Mercia would benefit more by killing Camelot's king, not him.<p>

And there was something about the poison…This slow painfully death – it didn't seem like the method of a warrior. It wasn't cowardly either. It was intended to torture.

Arthur knew he had many enemies, many from his position and his own doing and even more thanks to his father, but for someone to hate him that much… He forbid himself to follow this train of thought.

The moon rose and Arthur outran it. The sun rose and Arthur let its warmth fought away his weariness.

The noble steed of Camelot galloped on the wind when others of his kind would have collapsed in exhaustion.

When the sun climbed to its peak, Arthur dismounted and led his steed through the Forest of Isgard.

* * *

><p>A maiden sat on a rotten log, sobbing in the small clearing.<p>

Arthur wanted to walk on but the obvious wound on her shoulder compelled him to stop and investigate.

'Hey –' Before Arthur could continue, the maiden shrieked and fled like a startled animal deep into the forest. Arthur cursed his detour as he followed her noisy steps into the woods. Just when he thought he had lost her, he heard her scream and the maiden ran back to him – with a monster on her tail.

It was the _cockatrice._

The monster was as vicious as the one Gaius had shown him in the book, if not more. Reeling on its rear it would be as tall as him, and the sail-like structure on its back added to its imposing bulk. The claws would be the least of his concern as he remembered Gaius' voice reading '_one drop of poison from its bite will kill a man.'_

The maiden, screaming, latched onto him and Arthur had to shake her off before he could draw out his sword – just in time to fend off the pouncing cockatrice.

Just in time… and he felt his arm tinged in pain from the sword slashing against its hard plates.

The cockatrice circled his prey once more and pounced again. Arthur lowered his body to dodge the attack, and the cockatrice, driven by its momentum, crashed into a large tree, exposing its soft unprotected belly.

Knowing his feet would not bring him there in time, Arthur threw his sword at the monster and killed it.

* * *

><p>The maiden had a strange contorted look on her face, and Arthur could only attribute it to fear.<p>

He couldn't just leave the girl here.

He couldn't believe his luck when the girl turned out to be a runaway handmaiden of a nearby lord, who just happened to know the location of the cave of the Mortaeus Tree.

He should have been more alerted but the prospect of saving half a day looking for the cave had greatly thrilled him.

The cave was growing dark with the setting sun outside. Looking up he could see the roots of the great Mortaeus Tree swirling down the face of the cliff. The Mortaeus flower and its leave would be somewhere up there. A thin stony ledge soared above an abyss, joining his side of the cave to the cliff. Arthur walked onto the ledge without hesitance.

For a moment images of the cave under the castle of Camelot flashed in his mind. Repressed images flooded up unrestrained, Arthur felt _fear._

His heart leapt as the stones gave way behind his feet; He jumped and barely made it to the cliff wall.

'What are you doing!' The faint muttering he heard when crossing the ledge began to register. Dread filled his heart. With both hands clutching onto the cliff, he turned to see the maiden who had cursed him to fall.

But the face he saw was not the maiden's…

'Morgause!' He cried out in shock.

'Here we meet again, Arthur Pendragon.'

'Where's Morgana? What have you done to her?'

'Still caring about your little sister?' She laughed. She didn't miss the way his eyes narrowed at her words and she savored his reaction. 'She is well, better than ever. Her potential was wasted away in your filthy Pendragon household but now she is free. '

'She has enchanted the Mortaeus flower. You should be proud of her Arthur. A masterpiece, soon she will be as strong as I am. A pity you didn't drink from the goblet.'

'What are you waiting for? Finish me off!' He retorted instinctively, inside his mind was reeling. He couldn't believe it. _No way_ it was Morgana.

'It is Morgana's pleasure alone. It is not your destiny to die at my hand.' Hissing and clatter of limbs brought their attention back to the cliff. To his honor Arthur saw gigantic spiders gathering, each as long as his forearm.

'It seems the spider will finish my sister's job. Farewell Arthur Pendragon.'

Then she left him alone with the echo of her manic laughter and the spiders.

* * *

><p>The cave soon grew dark and restless spiders grew relentlessly closer and closer. Their glowing red eyes were the only thing that gave their location away in the dark. And there were <em>hundreds <em>of them.

Arthur sprang his sword at a spider that had dared to come too close. The blade found its target and Arthur was pleased to see the shadow of something falling down to the darkness below.

Hanging on a cliff with one hand while swinging a sword with another soon made its troll on couldn't keep this up much longer. It was too dark to climb to safety, let alone found the Mortaues flower.

He never thought he would die here. Alone.

He thought of Genevieve, he wished he had had a _true _night with her.

With that thought he knew couldn't just die here. He had to get back to Camelot! For Merlin. For Genevieve.

The spiders were getting closer again. The sounds of their limbs and pincer rattling, cracking and brushing were ever getting louder. He felt the hair rise at the back of his neck.

Suddenly there was light –

A ball of silvery blue light appeared, hovering behind him in the darkness of the cave, like a star in the night. The light, a ball of mist, glowed soft and calm, fine strands of silver wavered on its surface like stream on hot water.

Arthur could only stare in awe as it illuminated the cave with its soft silvery light. The spiders, being creatures of the dark, hissed in anger and fear. Then they attacked.

The light darted forward. The silky strands grew denser and longer until it had taken on a different shape –

A silvery blue dragon of glowing light charged at the spiders.

Arthur watched as the creature breathed a stream of light towards the wicked insects. Frightened, several jumped down the cliff before the mist could touch them and the rest began scattered into the darkness.

The dragon glided around Arthur, in an eerily beautiful silence, its silvery wing sliding _through_ the stony surface of the cliff.

Right underneath the luminous wing, he saw for a fleeting second what he was looking for – the Mortaeus flower.

With a cry of might, he summoned his last strength and pulled himself up the rocks. The dragon flew in patrol around, shone him the way to his prize. He stretched – and stretched – and his fingers closed around the plants.

The dragon swooped down to his head and soared straight up the cave, lighting up a hole amidst the roots of the Mortaeus Tree, an exit. Fueled by hope and faith, he followed the light and climbed.

For what seemed like an eternity, Arthur finally heaved himself off the cliff and threw his body onto the flat solid ground.

The creature of light twisted through the trees, coiling ribbons flared around the leaves as Arthur watched and lay panting.

'Thank you.' He said, but the creature showed no recognition to his words. It skimmed across his head one last time and it dissipated in a cloud of silvery mist.

The night grew dark, almost suffocating.

* * *

><p>A ball of light floated on his ward's palm.<p>

Gaius could only stare at what his mind and his studies told him was impossible happened in front of his eyes.

One moment Merlin was struggling to breathe with his fever, occasionally muttering words of the Old Tongue which compelled Gaius to send Gwen away to look for a herb almost impossible to find at the season.

'Arthur…It's too dark…Arthur…'

Then his body went completely still and the silvery blue orb was glowing underneath the blanket.

Gaius couldn't understand what was happening.

The light faded away. His body was _still._

_No. No…_

He felt for the pulse on his neck and felt nothing.

_No._

Then Merlin shot up from the bed, almost hitting Gaius on the forehead, his body sitting up tense and straight and eyes blazing gold.

Bending over, he vomited onto the floor a thick black poodle of liquid.

A cluster of hurried footsteps approached the chamber.

'Get down!' Gaius hissed and swiftly threw a towel onto the floor to cover up the spew.

A second later Gwen pushed open the door to the chamber. Gaius was still a bit disoriented at the development of the event.

'Sorry Gaius…I couldn't find it…' She was on the verge of tears. Gaius wanted to tell her the truth, but he couldn't now. 'That's fine Gwen. It wouldn't have worked. You should go to rest now. I need your strength for tomorrow.'

'No. Gaius. How can I sleep? I will wait for Arthur at the city gate.'

'Arthur won't be coming back till tomorrow…'

'He is fast. I must wait for him.'

With that she left the chamber again.

As the door banged closed, Merlin cracked open an eye and Gaius gave him a small nod. Gingerly he pushed himself to sit up again with great effort. Gaius sighed heavily and watched, inviting an explanation.

His ward curled up and rested his head on his knees as his ragged breathing eased gradually. 'The magic and the flower; I can sense it and smell it. I can't let Arthur drink it.' Looking up from his arms, he added and smiled weakly. 'Besides, it didn't kill me anyway.'

'You knew it was no ordinary poison. It was powerfully enchanted.'

'I don't have a choice…'

'There are so many things you can do instead. For example, just knock off the goblet.' Gaius reprimanded softly.

'I know…I don't have time to think.' He signed.

'Sometime Arthur was right about you. You are an idiot.' He watched his ward grimaced and the physician slumped into a chair. 'And you can't do this to me. Between you and Arthur – I can't choose between the two of you.'

'Gaius…'

'But great job Merlin. You save Arthur's life twice.'

'Twice? What do you mean?'

'The ball of light…'

* * *

><p><strong>It was absolutely no fun having a dia-rrrr-hoa, or whatever the term Gaius said that made him threw up up and down. <strong>

**He felt weak, so weak he almost couldn't get off the bed himself. And Morgana was standing by the bedpost, smirking when Uther was gone. It was very humiliating.**

**He missed the knight's training and lessons with Gaius and Geoffrey, not really for the last ones.**

_**Emrys? **_**He called in his mind.**

_**What's wrong Arthur. You sounded small. **_**Emrys' tone wasn't as jovial as always, but still he could hear the dragon was **_**healthy**_**.**

_**You don't get a diarrhea?**_

_**What's dia-arr-rea?**_

_**It means you get a lot of poo poo.**_

_**Wowww. Wowww. **_**Emrys' voice was one with wonder. Arthur couldn't imagine. His face screwed into one of pain as his tummy twisted itself again.**

_**What does it look? How does it feel like? Arthur? Arthur!**_

**It wasn't fair. Why wasn't Emrys the one getting diarrhea when he liked it so much?**

* * *

><p>He had known his action would not go without punishment.<p>

So when the guards seized him as soon as he stepped foot into Camelot, Arthur didn't bother to struggle.

He watched in relieve as Guinevere ran past him to the castle, clutching the pouch with the Mortaues flower he had given her _outside _the city gate.

He was fast. Gaius said the poison would kill in five days; he was back in three. Though Guinevere's look wasn't encouraging, he consoled himself that he _had_ made it in time. Merlin was still alive. He would be saved.

The guards thrust him unceremoniously into a cell down the dungeon, next to the one holding King Bayard, much to the king's amusement. He settled to sit against the wall with a displeasing scowl on his face.

'It seems the royal feast has moved to the dungeon.' Bayard teased, Arthur didn't answer.

Soon the one to pass judgment on him came, and he stood up straight with dignity.

'It was Morgause. I met her in the forest. Let Bayard go.' He said firmly. If his father had felt any concern for him, upon mentioning the name of the feared witch, he didn't show it.

'You heard him Uther. Your son is smarter than you.' Bayard called out again, Uther flashed a warning glare, but the imprisoned king just snickered in response.

'Morgause…' Bayard continued in mockingly contemplative voice. 'So have you seen the Lady Morgana too?'

Bayard's cell shook with the impact as Uther hissed like a burning iron and lunged at the bars. 'Give me a reason why I shouldn't kill you now.' Arthur gasped in silence at his bravery. Morgana was a taboo; she hadn't exactly kept a low profile during her brief stay with Morgause in Escetia. Everyone knew what happened to her and what Uther wouldn't hear. The man literally asked for death.

Bayard replied smoothly. 'Because that means war. A real war that will destroy both of us even if the other kingdoms don't swoop in to pick at our carcasses. Let me go with the treaty. My people need good news once in a while, yours too, to reassure them their kings aren't just drooling on the throne.'

Arthur knew Uther was pondering on how to kill Bayard without starting a war. He found none, so he turned to Arthur.

'You will stay here until you learn your mistakes.' Uther said coldly. It always chilled his heart that his father could use such a tone on him. It brought a strong desire to prove himself, to please, to beg for forgiveness.

It also brought _anger. _

He clutched his jaw tightly and forced himself to choke out an apology.

Uther's eyes flashed, but he didn't say anything.

He wondered if he remained Uther of Morgana, and the thought scared him.

Uther disappeared up the stairs, at the same time, soft quick steps like a deer trotting through the forest was heard, and Guinevere hurried down the dungeon. The guards clashed their spears together and forbid her to go further, but Arthur had seen it; the smile on her face.

'He was fine!' She shouted out to him. Arthur allowed himself to be swallowed by exhaustion.

* * *

><p>He couldn't sleep though.<p>

Not after Morgause's word and the light in the cave.

Morgause was lying. She must be. He wondered if he was denying the truth like his father, but he _knew_ Morgana. He grew up with her. One day she would see sense and she would come back to him.

He told himself the hope was not as foolish as it seemed. Other ridiculous things had happened too.

Like he was _saved _by magic, and that thought brought a frustrated shake to his head.

Magic had done a good deed, and Uther would immediately sneer at the thought.

Magic was evil. But he told himself he would welcome Morgana back, even if she didn't give up on her magic. He would teach her to control magic and not to let the evilness control her.

The light in the cave – It _might _be Morgana; Morgause might have told her of the plan and Morgana had sent the light to save him. It had to be.

Maybe Morgana was finally realizing Morgause's true nature.

Of course there was another explanation – Of all the shapes the light could be, it was a _dragon._

It might still be Morgana, because he knew nothing about magic and dragon might just be the coincidental nature of the spell.

It had to be Morgana.

* * *

><p>The next morning, Arthur was let out of the cell and was thrust a clean set of clothes. He changed quickly and joined Uther to see the Mercia off.<p>

A quick apology to Uther and he was excused, his father didn't want to see his face anyway.

He went to the physician chamber to see the man he saved from death.

He stared, in utter shock, at the man up and fine and enjoying an abundant meal like nothing had happened.

Merlin was sitting with his back against the door, upon seeing the prince, Gaius elbowed him hastily.

Merlin turned, a half chewed sausage in his mouth. The rosy brush on his face only added to accentuate the perfect good health he was in.

_What the_ – He almost _died _in the cave for him!

Merlin immediately put on a grimace so forced that Arthur would swore he was faking if he had not seen the man _dying._

He groaned, which sounded like an old man stretching his bones.

'Still alive, huh?' Arthur's crossed arm spoke of his skepticism.

'You can't get rid of me that easily._' _A cheekily grin, no way it was a man on the brink of death yesterday.

'Ha! I want to see you back to your work tomorrow. My armour and stable need cleaning. And –' Arthur crossed the room in a few strides and picked up the plate of food. ' – a patient shouldn't be eating something that oily. Right, Gaius?'

'Gaius!' Merlin said urgently, calling for support, never tearing his eyes away from the plate.

'He was right Merlin.' The old man was trying so hard to stifle a smile.

'Prat!' His servant shouted indignantly. Arthur hid the plate behind his back and raised his eyebrows.

'Is that what you say to someone who saved your life?'

'Thank you _prat!_'

* * *

><p><strong>Arthur brought more sausages to the cave. Some smelt so bad that Morgana wouldn't stand close to him, but Emrys snooped them down without question.<strong>

**Every time Arthur watched, a wicked grin on his face. **

**But he never got sick. Arthur was deeply disappointed.**

* * *

><p>The door opened with a soft crack, Arthur sprang around, facing an equally startled Guinevere.<p>

'Arthur? What are you doing here?'Her arms were clutched in front of her chest, and she was still panting slightly from the shock.

'I –I cook you a surprise dinner.' Arthur managed not to stammer.

'Arthur!' Her face lighted up like a thousand suns. 'That is very swe – nice of you. A prince shouldn't do that –' She brushed.

'There is no one here. We can –' Arthur started forward from the back of her hut. It wasn't a kitchen, just a small area designated for cooking.

Guinevere pulled him into a kiss.

'Arthur…' Her eyes held stars in the night, her hands sang warmth and love on his cheek.

'Arthur? What's _that _smell?'The stars winked at him with mischievousness. He loved the way she wrinkled her nose. She was _lovely _in every way_._

'That would be our dinner.' Arthur smiled, a dazed and foolish smile.

She laughed and skipped to the kitchen. Arthur followed like a nervous boy.

She tilted her head and scrutinized Arthur's dish. On the wooden table was a broth. And just a broth, because the other dishes were…

'It is a broth Merlin taught me…and he is not a good teacher.' Arthur shifted on his leg slightly. Merlin had been extremely supportive on his advance, listing out a long list of dishes and ingredients. He was supposed to throw all the ingredients in the water and the broth would be done. He hadn't thought of some stuck at the bottom and got burnt, some soup spilling out of the pot, and some clothes catching fire. Ah – accidents.

Gwen scooped up the broth with a large spoon, scrapping the bottom and smiled knowingly as it encountered some resistance. There was pieces of meat, carrots, corns, fish tail, onion, banana, eggplant, cucumbers… all mixed together in a brown vicious liquid. Arthur just threw in everything he found.

'I will ask the palace kitchen for some dishes' Arthur signed, defeat in his tone.

'No. Arthur.' She took his hands and raised her head so that she could look right into his eyes, so that he would _understand._

'Arthur. It is perfect.'

* * *

><p>AN: Happy New Year! And the first episode rewrite!<p>

Anyone guess it right? It's The Poisoned Chalice. Longest chapter ever. Wow. For the light ball thing, just imagine a dragon patronus.

There are some scenes I delete, some to fit the story, some are things Arthur wouldn't have known and some because I am lazy. It will be boring if I just copy everything. For vital things, they will appear, even if it only has one single sentence. For important things that didn't appear, like Nimueh in this chapter, it means it doesn't exist in this story.

For the flashback/bits from the past in bold, I am sorry that they don't fit in much with the present. It's like a writer block so I will extremely grateful if you can shout out some ideas.

For the last chapters, if it is unclear, Gaius was the one seeing Merlin back in the cave. There are some hints in chapter 2 and 3. That's why Merlin laughed when Arthur raised his brows. He was trying to say 'You look like _Gaius._' And Gaius was rather alerted when Arthur used the word _prat_. When he bumped into Arthur on the corridor the night the dragon escaped, he grew even more suspicious. And thanks for your reviews Catherine10.

Thanks everyone for the reviews and kind words. I am in tears.

Next chapter: An elemental cure. Err don't know how to describe it. You can say Morgause hasn't given up on poisoning Camelot. So Uther tells everyone to eat more veggies to stay healthy. Arthur is appointed the honorary task of leading a daily morning jog around the castle. Gaius says an apple a day keeps the physician away, but Merlin doesn't like apple. Can Camelot run against time to grow enough apples for her people?


	7. Chapter 7 :The Cure

The Cure

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><p>Arthur stormed along the corridor. A hungry prince was an angry prince. Merlin was late again, no chop that, Merlin hadn't come at all.<p>

Arthur shove open the door to the physician's chamber just to see the face of his least favorable person in the whole Camelot.

'Good. I thought I was here to collect your dead body.' Arthur crossed his arm, waiting for an explanation from his servant. It wouldn't be an explanation, more like a poorly woven excuse, then Arthur could spend some time mocking at his inferior intelligence to chill his anger. The jabs would sometimes become physical, with some form of punishment announced, like the stock or stable.

Merlin, like always, had ignored his words. He wondered if he really got those goblet-like ears for no reason.

'Great job Arthur. You manage to get up without my help.'

'I am starved to wakefulness.' Arthur was unimpressed, and hungry.

'It is for the perfectionisation of your figure.'

'I am the epitome of perfection, always. Don't think you can divert the topic. What are you doing here?'

'I was helping out with Gaius this morning.' Merlin said defensively. Nice, and Gaius was going to cover for him, _again. _Arthur looked over his shoulder to the physician standing by the had spoiled his ward.

'Really? Let me see what you are doing.' Arthur easily side-stepped his servant's attempt to block him –

There was a man on the table, dead. Arthur was no physician, but such pallid face could only belong to the dead. He swallowed, hard.

'What happened to him?'

'I don't know sire. We found him this morning in the lower town. The second one.' Gaius's voice was grave.

'It doesn't look natural to me.'

'We shouldn't jump to any conclusion-'

'No. I won't.' But Uther would. Arthur shook his head. 'Merlin, you try to do something useful and help Gaius.'

Arthur left and headed for the lower town. He wasn't hungry anymore.

* * *

><p><strong>Fear seized his heart. Arthur stopped dead in his tract, blood pounding like drums in his ears.<strong>

_**It couldn't be.**_

**He stared at the black mass of the creature in front of him, unmoving, silent, a heap of flesh in the dim cave.**

**Emrys was dying.**

**There were flakes of his scales everywhere on the ground and his skin was falling off in grayish sheets.**

**He knew what death was. Death was when knights didn't come back from the battlefields; Death was when Fang never played with him again; Death was Jorge never laughed again. Death was a good thing for the knights, because the whole town would pray for them, but Emrys wasn't a knight.**

**He remembered what happened to Jana. She grew some strange water bubbles on her skin and Arthur and Jorge were having fun poking them. Then at night she grew really hot and the broken bubbles became dead skin which kept spreading and falling off. Gaius couldn't save her. He remembered Jorge and Lord Psatti were very unhappy for a long time because they didn't smile. When Emrys died Arthur knew he too wouldn't smile and would be very unhappy.**

**Then Emrys stirred slowly and made a deep long yawn, saliva caking on his fangs. He blinked twice and turned towards Arthur with misty eyes.**

'**What's wrong Arthur?'**

'**I don't you to die.' The prince said bluntly. Emrys was evil but he didn't want him to die.**

'**What?' The dragon shook his head vigorously and whitish powder rose in the air. He scratched behind his ears.**** Then his blue eyes widend in realization.**

'**I am not dying you prat! It is called **_**shredding.**_**'**

**The prince rushed forward and hugged his dragon. Dead skin drifted elegantly like flakes and snow powder ****danced ****on a train of light.**

'**You can't get rid of me that easily.' Emrys flashed him a huge toothy grin and Arthur cuffed****him on head, laughing.**

**To prove his point, Emrys sang the Peasant's Song over and over again in his head **_**all night.**_

* * *

><p>'My lord, the disease was spreading.' Gaius said as he bowed to the king and the prince in the council chamber. Merlin stood with his eyes downcast beside the physician.<p>

'What was the causing the disease?' Uther raised his head from the documents.

'I have yet to find out the cause.' Gaius said carefully.

'But you have suspicion.' Uther countered quickly, staring hard at the old man. Arthur knew his father had the hunch of a hunter.

'The process of science is a long one…' Gaius said, even more carefully now.

'Don't lie to me Gaius! Was it magic?' Firm voice cut through the apprehensive words, Uther demanded, raising up his chair and loomed over his physician. It was a voice that could send the bravest knight cowering in fear. It was the voice that seized Camelot years ago.

Gaius looked down, defeated.

'It is likely sorcery is at work here sire.'

His father's eyes glowed with danger and excitement.

'Then we must take action now. Search the town. Find the sorcerer Arthur.'

Arthur grunted softly in acknowledgement.

'Yes father.'

* * *

><p>It was pointless.<p>

A sorcerer capable of creating such foul death wouldn't be found searching the town. He would such an absurd idea would come from Merlin, but no, it was from his father. For second time in the day, he doubted the intelligence of the people around him.

Skeptical and displeased as he was, Arthur couldn't disobey.

The disease spread. The first case in the upper town appeared in the late afternoon, a courtier. More soon followed.

People were panicking.

He saw diseased people sprawling on the street, begging for help, whitish faces contorted in agony.

He couldn't help. And he was doing the exact opposite of helping by breaking into everyone's house, searching for the sorcerer in his father's imagination.

He searched Gwen's house. It was modest, clean and tidy.

He was pleased to see the doe token still hung on the wall.

* * *

><p>That night he returned to the castle, two <em>sorcerers<em> in the grip and swords of his men.

Arthur was mad. He chewed his food with more force than necessary. Merlin would have to return to Gaius soon; his servant seemed determine to babble on till the last minute, heedless to the subtle and not-so-subtle signs of his inner storm.

'How was the search?'

'Like you.'

His servant blinked, nonplussed, then he grinned, mistaking his words as a compliment. Or he did it deliberately, Arthur really couldn't differentiate because the difference in their intelligence was just too great.

'That means it is very successful.'

'That means it is disastrous _Mer_lin.'

He was searching an ordinary house in the lower town. The mother had stood petrified by the door when soldiers wrecked chaos around the house, wrapping her arms tight around the shoulders of her young son.

The son was oblivious to the clamor. He just kept on rocking on his heels and stared at a fixed spot of the room, mumbling a sting of unintelligible words. The mother said he had been like that since birth.

When Arthur came closer for an inspection, the son foamed in his mouth - His mother apologized profusely that his son would play dead when he was confused.

Such a family could not have harbored a sorcerer. Arthur was about to call it a day when everything went to hell.

Sir Arnold, a newly recruited knight eager to prove his worth, shouted he had found something in the drawer.

It was a piece of paper filled with ugly scribbles. Arthur wouldn't even call them words, but Sir Arnold had insisted they were writing of sorcery. Like sorcerers could read a language made entirely of non-repeating symbols.

Arnold declared there was a sorcerer in the house.

It was the nonsense scrawl of the mentally challenged boy, Arthur was sure and it could be easily explained away.

Arthur's hope was crashed when the mother, frightened by the advancing knight, screamed the writing was _hers._

Arthur had no choice.

The boy still hadn't stopped his mumbling when the soldiers seized him and his mother. His haunting eyes unblinking as his mother screamed innocence and mercy.

Arthur was mad.

By nightfall, ten people were locked in the dungeon. Two were children, but his father wouldn't listen.

The room was silent as he finished.

'So Arthur we have to find the culprit fast.'

* * *

><p>The next day the prince woke up, surprisingly, with breakfast.<p>

He had seen the candles burning in the physician's chamber well into the night.

It was on time, as punctual as Merlin could get. He was actually quite annoyed that he had to wake up _early, _before realizing he had a cure to find.

He eyed suspiciously at his servant grinning like an idiot at the end of his bed.

The sausage did taste like sausage. The porridge did taste awful. And Merlin wasn't trying to look for woodworms.

'We have found the source of the disease. It was water.'

* * *

><p><em><strong>Arthur! Arthur!<strong>_

_**Shut up Emrys! I am sleeping**_**. **

**It was late morning. Arthur groaned and turned beneath his covers. No light poured through his curtain, it was pouring outside. He couldn't watch the knight practice.**

_**No Arthur! You have to come and see this. It is amazing!**_

**Moaning, the prince hefted himself out of bed. It was the greatest rain Camelot ever had in years, the market below was flooded Arthur thought he could swim in it.**

**He passed servants after servants soaked dripping water on the floor. Even Morgana had gotten wet somehow, Arthur smirked.**

_**Arthur!**_

**Eventually he reached the cave. There, was a scene he would never forget.**

**A **_**waterfall **_**pouring down from the opening of the cave.**

**Mighty and majestic, the torrent of water spilled down into the abyss of the cave, glowing and sparkling in the light, powerful like a warrior, elegant like a maiden.**

**He had never seen water that beautiful.**

'**Is it amazing?' Emrys landed beside him, a miniature fall in his eyes of awe.**

'**Yes it is.'**

* * *

><p>'Arthur I think I am going to throw up.'<p>

'Shut up.'

'Arthur I think I am burning up.'

'Shut up Merlin!'

'Arthur I think I am getting the disease!'

'Shut up Merlin or I will make you.'

Merlin pulled up his horse next to Arthur's, smiling.

'Then you may also catch the disease Arthur.'

'Why don't you shut up or knock yourself out?'

His hand twitched. He wanted to throw something so badly.

'Nah. Someone needs me to watch over his back.'

That's it. Arthur chucked his water skin at his servant. Sure the clumsy idiot couldn't dodge it; it was a well aimed throw.

'Ouch!'

'It is a miracle that Gaius can stand living with you every day.'

'Who say I can?' Gaius called out from the front.

Arthur laughed at his servant still rubbing his head. He nagged his horse to go faster.

It was so much better, bantering, than to look at the dead animals lying by the river.

Arthur had no doubt it was the water now.

Dead fish floated belly-up in the river and all along the river banks were animals lifeless and white.

They followed the river upstream, the River Rill that supplied the city of Camelot.

His steed whined in distress at the dead wolf.

Gaius would stop to collect some water sample from time to time, did some science that Arthur didn't understand and shook his head. Then Merlin would help him up on the horse and they would march on again.

It was noon when they reached the waterfall.

It wasn't a fall exactly. It was too small for that. The river splashed down from a wall of stone and mosses about ten meters high, filling up a whirlpool of dead fishes before snaking back into the forest.

'Upstream of the fall is a cave. It is where the river can be seen last above ground.' Gaius shouted over the roaring water. A dead brown rabbit washed down the fall.

'So that's our last site then.' Arthur said and tied his steed to a tree.

There was a rocky slope leading up to top of the fall beside the raging water.

But Gaius was too old for that.

'Merlin and I will go to the cave. Gaius you can stay here.'

'We can't leave Gaius here. There are beasts and bandits.'

'Don't be such a girl Merlin.' But he knew Merlin was right.

'And do any of you have the requisite knowledge to investigate?' Gaius beat them to the point.

Arthur was about to volunteer but Merlin was faster. He stared as his servant kneeled down beside his guardian and offered him a climb to the back. Gaius smiled warmly.

'Merlin you are not going to drop Gaius right?' Arthur arched his eyebrows.

'I think I do trust Merlin on that.' Gaius chuckled as Merlin grunted and marched on the slope. Arthur trailed closely behind, worried. He might have to carry two people back to Camelot.

After a long laboring, his twig of a servant did manage to carry his guardian up the waterfall. Arthur was impressed, secretly.

The cave was a myriad of tunnels and rocks. They separated to find the head-water. Arthur raised his torch above his head. There was constant sound of dribbles but the head-water were nowhere to be seen. The cave weighted down on him, oppressive, and miles away Camelot was waiting.

And the two children in the dungeon. Whenever magic was involved, his father seemed to-

Suddenly there was a shout of fear.

Arthur pulled out his sword and ran.

There was a bright flash of gold at the corner and an inhumane shriek. Arthur ran after it, his boots splashing in the shallow water.

Merlin stood protectively in front of the physician sprawled on the floor, banishing his torch at the dark tunnel. The red flame illuminated a hideous face with rows of vicious fangs, a monster of sickly naked skin as large as a bear.

Arthur rushed forward and swords and claws clashed. With a great thrush of his torch, the creature retreated and jumped into a large pool of muddy water- the head-water.

The pool couldn't be deep enough for the large creature to hide in and he thought he saw it _melted_…

'Let's go Arthur!' Merlin pulled him away from his trance.

They ran out of the cave, panting. They had found the source of the disease.

* * *

><p>Back in Camelot, Gaius and Merlin immediately dug out tons of tombs from the chamber.<p>

Gaius said it was an _afanc_, a creature of clay conjured by sorcerers of the highest power.

The creature on the book had a fierce head not unlike the one they had encountered, but the rest of its body was a muddy poodle, which bore little resemblance to their monster. The book did say its water was poisonous though.

Arthur left as Gaius said they had to find a way to kill it. He said reading was not his strength, he would come when they needed a knight.

Arthur slipped into the library. He couldn't tell his father yet about the afanc. If he confirmed that it was indeed a magical plague, he would execute all the prisoners if they refused to or _couldn't _break the spell.

And he couldn't let that happen.

In a forbidden corner of the library there were forbidden books- books of magic. They would contain more information about the afanc, certainly more than the tombs in Gaius' chamber- Uther would have confiscated them if they were too magical. Gaius couldn't enter this part of the library, he was once a sorcerer and Uther would have him burned, councilor or not. On the strictest of terms, Arthur too was forbidden to enter, but Camelot was waiting. Dying.

He sneaked past Geoffery dozing on his table. He hoped he had not caught the disease.

The chamber was as disorganized as he remembered. The piles of books didn't look so tall now but they were still formidable. Arthur couldn't read the spine of most books.

He packed up one that said Defense against magical creature and scrapped it aside. The inside was written in a foreign language. Was that a way for sorcerer to guide their knowledge? It was certainly very effective, but detrimental to recruiting new magical students.

He packed up more and threw more aside.

* * *

><p>Merlin closed his book of spells.<p>

'It is useless Gaius. The afanc was immune to my magic. It is the strongest spell I know.'

Gaius looked up from his tomb. If his ward's spell was useless, and that was really saying something, then the afanc could not be defeated by magic alone.

He wished he had more books. His memories were failing from his age. An afanc was special…because…

'Afanc was a creature of double elements.' Gaius gasped.

'What? Elements?' Merlin tilted his head, puzzled

'Afanc was made of earth and water. To defeat it, you need-'

'Fire and air.'

Then they smiled at each other.

* * *

><p>Arthur flipped open the thousandth book he found.<p>

_Magical creatures are classified into elementals and non-elementals. Non-elementals, as their name implied, do not associate themselves with elements, but it does not imply they are magically less powerful…The magic of an elemental manifest as one of four elements: air, earth, fire and water…_

Arthur skimmed through the weathered pages, watching out for the word afanc.

_There are creatures born of two elements. Four such creatures exist naturally, kelpies born of water and earth, nymphs born of water and air, dragons born of fire and air, phoenixes born of earth and fire. Four creatures are conjured by the most powerful dark sorcery, an afanc from water and earth, a leviathan from water and air, a balrog from fire and air, a cerberus from earth and fire. All such creatures are rare and dangerous, for their shifting elements complement each other and neutralize any magic cast on them. They can be subdued only when both elements were suppressed simultaneously. _

Arthur closed the book. Camelot didn't have what it was needed to defeat an afanc, according to this particular book.

He wouldn't give up. The body bags by the market were still building up…

He packed up another and started reading.

After hours as sleep threatened to evade him, Arthur involuntarily sneaked back to his chamber. He had missed dinner and no doubt Merlin would make a fuss about it tomorrow about him missing, but that's least of his problem. He fell into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

><p>When the cloud occluded the waning moon, a dark silhouette from the forest leapt into the dark night sky.<p>

Wind swept past soundless under his wings as the shadow glided across the canopy.

He landed at the entrance of a cave and roared out his challenge; the creature within growled in response.

He had the superiority in size, but inside the narrow tunnels of the cave this quickly became a disadvantage.

But his magic was much stronger than it.

One mistake, one careless move, and the afanc was ablaze in a torrent of fire and air.

* * *

><p><strong>The water in the cave took weeks to drain away. And the cave had <strong>_**stunk**_** so much that Arthur thought it was worse than a toilet.**

**Emrys didn't mind though. **

**He had enjoyed rolling in the muddy puddle and then pouncing on Arthur.**

**He also savaged lots of treasures from the water- rotten vegetables, clothes, shoes, pieces of a wooden cart…**

**Arthur had declared them junks instantly.**

**So the muddy dragon curled up on top of his piles of treasures, guarding them from the evil prince who tried to steal them.**

* * *

><p>'So you are saying the patients are recovering?' Arthur stared incredulous at his servant. It was a disturbing habit he had developed.<p>

'Yes. Gaius' new remedy has worked.' Merlin replied cheerfully, suppressing a yawn in his throat.

'But I thought the plague was magical.' Arthur pushed open the door. He gawked at the patients sitting up on their make-shift beds, eating porridge slowly on their own. The ashen colour had regressed, leaving the men and women with pale skin typic to the sick.

'It was no magic. The dead animals in the river were the cause of the disease not the result.' Gaius said in an authoritative voice.

Merlin walked over to stand by the physician, grinning smug and irritating. Arthur noticed he was limping slightly.

'How can you explain the creature in the cave, surely it is magical!' Arthur's eyes were about to bulge out.

'Arthur it could be a cave bear. It was too dark to see.' Merlin's annoying grin showed how pleased he was with his argument.

It was ridiculous. Arthur glared back at the two pairs of eyes. He felt he was having a staring contest against Gaius and Merlin.

'Maybe the bear has some diseases.' Merlin ventured again.

'It looks nothing like a bear-' Arthur yelled, exasperated.

'Bears do get bald like human' Gaius said patiently as if he was explaining to a child.

Here you are, Arthur thought. Gaius and Merlin. Merlin and Gaius. One and the same.

Arthur deflated. That was no use arguing. He told himself he didn't lose the argument, he just didn't bother.

At least he could get Uther to release the prisoners now.

* * *

><p>All the patients were discharged that night. They had made a remarkable recovery.<p>

'I hope you won't come into the attention of Morgause.'

'Morgause? She was one conjuring the afanc?'

'I am afraid so.'

The chamber soaked in their thoughts in silence.

In raw power Gaius had nothing to fear for his ward. But Morgause was an experienced High Priestess with dangerous knowledge of dark magic, rituals and artifacts. And his ward's magic was unique. It responded to his emotions much stronger than his spells. And he was told years with the druids hadn't fixed that completely.

And there was Morgana…

Gaius would do whatever he could.

He pulled out a piece of broken teeth embedded in the dragon's thigh. His chamber shook with the twitch. The tail had knocked down something in Merlin's room. That's fine. The room was a mess anyway.

Gaius was thankful that no one could possibly come in with the dragon's head pressed up against the chamber door. With the furniture pushed aside, his ward had filled up his chamber very nicely from head to tail.

And it filled a warm joy in his heart.

The afanc's tooth was melting on his tongs, like wax, evidence of a battle of elements raging.

'Remember Merlin, opposing elements and magic tend to cancel out each other…'

* * *

><p>'<strong>Hey look! A bird!' Arthur shouted excitedly, gesturing to a point high on the cave.<strong>

'**Where? Where Arthur!' Emrys beamed like a little boy with a treat.**

'**Just behind that rock…'**

**The dragon leapt into the**** air**** and flied away.**

**Arthur smirked as he pushed the pile of ****'treasures'**** off the ledge.**

* * *

><p>Arthur looked out at the window, something he hadn't done for a long while.<p>

The wind was chasing away the last bits of the stormy clouds. The moon shone through the dark.

It was not a cave bear.

_Afanc, conjured from earth and water. Dragon, born of fire and air…_

* * *

><p>AN: Arthur isn't exactly bright, right?<p>

Originally it was will-o'-wisp instead of balrog, but it seemed too weak. I knew little about mystic creature, just got the names from the web and lotr, so if there is any suggestion just tell me.

And please tell me how you feel about the chapters, if it sucks, just split it in my face so I can write better. Or else similar chapters will just keep on coming for a while until they give you nightmare.

I wrote this chapter quite early, like one month ago, after I do the revise now, it seemed fragmented…or it's just how I am feeling now. Hyper and worried.

School starts. Surprisingly I feel quite good about it. Feel solid and fulfilling, albeit a bit too tiring.

Next chapter: I don't know about this one…still thinking over and fixing things. No more poison, that is for certain. Maybe something related to the birds and constipation.


	8. Chapter 8: Hand of sorrow

Hand of Sorrow

* * *

><p>'Do you solemnly swear to govern the people of this kingdom and its dominions, according to the statutes, customs, and laws laid down by your forbears?'<p>

'I do, Sire.'

'Do you promise to exercise mercy and justice in your deeds and judgments?'

'I do, Sire.'

'And do you swear allegiance to Camelot, now and for as long as you shall live?'

'I, Arthur Pendragon, do pledge life and limb to your service and to the protection of the kingdom and its peoples.'

The golden crown rested on his head, a weight and a cold on his scalp. He took a deep breath and gathered his strength, until the crown warmed and became a part of him, load at the rim of consciousness.

That's it. The moment of his life. What he had been living for. What he was _made _for. The token of his worth. A proof of his effort. The day he rose among the crowd and basked in the starlight of glory.

He savaged the moment exquisitely, aware that the ceremony was not yet over. He tried not to think of anything else and focused back on his father's voice.

'Now, being of age and heir apparent, from henceforth you shall be Crown Prince of Camelot.'

The hall ruptured into a thunder of applause. He rose from his knees to meet his father's eyes, pride and a heartfelt smile. There was an urge – of course he didn't do it! It is childish – to squeeze his father in a bear hug. Uther would swipe him down like a bear.

In a mixture of elation, pride and disbelief, the world exploded in vibrant color of red and gold.

It took all his will power to reign in his emotion and kept his face neutral. He turned, to face the dignities gathered at the great hall. He felt himself _grow, _as if the new crown had transformed him into a different person, better.

The nobles –he had not liked them very much – their fluid alliance irked him, but now it was time to put his puny distaste and started working together – maybe – but he still didn't like them!

The knights –they were his brothers in all but blood – their loyalty, their courage and their strength was the greatest weapon he had – he wouldn't mind a new cross-bow though.

At last he found Guinevere and Merlin standing at the back of the venue. They were genuinely happy for him and he was grateful for the love and friendship they offered, like a breeze in murky air, in his life of court.

A desire to prove and to protect flared up in his chest. The crown was heavy, but it grounded him like an anchorage.

Then the colored glass color shattered as a dark silhouette – a figure on a black horse charged through. The knight in black amour landed with an eerie grace among the falling shades –this should signify something, but Arthur couldn't figure it out, yet. He was still wondering why didn't the knight come through the front door.

People on the side cowered and shielded their head in fear as the chamber rained sharps. He eyes immediately seek Guinevere – she was fine – he exhaled with great relief – Merlin's brown jacket had caught most of the shards for her. That idiot did something right this time.

The stranger –ah! –and probably hostile knight approached, and the presenting knights came to his side to form a wall in front of the king.

_Talk about responsibility, _Arthur laughed humorlessly in his head. Was this a _joke _to test his ability?

Without noticing, his hand had flown to the hilt of his sword. He stole a glance at his upper limb, pleased with its instinct.

The knight pulled his rein and his stead halted with uncanny obedience. The horse stilled, the thump of its hooves sent a tremor through the ground. He wanted that horse.

There was a strange symbol on the knight's shield –a silver eagle upon a black field, one that he had never seen before. Or did he just miss something from his classes? He almost regretted not paying more attention now, _almost._

Now he looked carefully, the knight was definitely strange, Arthur wouldn't let leave him with just a fine for breaking the window. As though all light was devoured by him, the knight stood tall with a croak of shadow stretching the entire room. He couldn't see the knight's face through his helm, even his eyes seemed to have no light. The dark figure emaciated a dark aura that made him feel like a stomachache, and to make it worse, there was no toilet nearby.

Something wasn't quite right about this knight, Arthur thought.

The knight threw a gauntlet at his feet. Arthur looked down, momentarily shocked by the insult, to him and Camelot – how dare him! A challenge issued at the ceremonial day of Camelot, the knight didn't just come for fame.

Arthur sheathed his sword to accept the challenge, but another knight beside him was faster.

'I, Sir Owain, accept your challenge.'

'Single combat, noon tomorrow…To the death.'

* * *

><p><em><strong>Arthur! Why is it so noisy? <strong>_

_**The knights! They are back!**_

**Arthur was rushing out to welcome the knights when his father's firm hand held him in place, on a more dignified position on the castle steps. He squirmed, not pleased with the arrangement. **

**He didn't recognize any of the knights, they must have start the quest before he met them.**

**The last knight entered the square, pulling a cart behind him. On it was a sword.**

**He had never seen a sword like that. It sparkled like the sun and the moon, brighter than any sword of the knights. His eyes hurt from not blinking, so he rubbed them a bit – oh, that wasn't an illusion – he was going to have a beautiful sword to play with soon!**

_**Arthur?**_

**He squeaked in excitement as the head knight presented the sword to his father. He carried the sword awkwardly, with both hands bracing it to his chest, like those servants carrying heavy laundry. As Uther took the sword, his body was momentarily jerked forward.**

**Wow. That was one heavy sword. **

_**Arthur! **_

**The crowd was cheering, clapping, celebrating, their sounds didn't quite manage to drown the voice in his head, but he was too busy to answer Emrys anyway. **

**He could practically see the dragon pouting at being ignored.**

* * *

><p>The problem with Sir Owain was confidence - he had too much of that. While he was good indeed, the best among the newly recruited–still nowhere near his level, Arthur snorted – the man had no battle experience to boost.<p>

And they knew _nothing _about the Black Knight. So Arthur would stay cautiously optimistic, whatever it was called.

'You've never fought in mortal combat before. It's different. It's not like the training I've been giving you.'

'Yeah, I know.' The knight said casually, raising his arms as Merlin helped him into his armour.

'Listen to me. The problem is we've never seen him fight. You have to quickly get the measure of him. Arthur tried to keep his exasperation and worry under his voice.

'Anyone could be underneath the mask, it could be _me._' Merlin chimed in and Sir Owain laughed, his untied mail clinking with him like bells on a jester. Arthur fought the urge to hit some senses into the idiots' head, both of them, if they had one.

God, he was surrounded by idiots.

'But I have the same advantage. He's never seen me fight.'

'…True.'

'You've watched me.'

'Yes.'

'And?'

'And I know no one braver.' The knight left, shoulder straight. Arthur just wanted to hold his head and groaned – could a man be this thick?

Arthur was worried, for a good reason – courage was not the only thing needed to keep one alive in battle – hell, cowardice actually had more survival value. He understood Sir Owain – He too was once a novice knight blinded by the illusion of glory and invincibility. But once a sword flew across the neck, missing an artery by barely inches, one would earn a modest size of ego.

Still, at least Arthur could reassure himself that Owain wouldn't be wetting his pants and put shame on Camelot.

'All it takes to kill a man is one well-aimed bow.' He said, both as an advice and warning.

Sir Owain gave him a dazzling smile of perfect white teeth before heading out, head high as the speculators cheered their anticipation. Beside him Merlin frowned slightly, finally the idiot had realized the problem.

* * *

><p><strong>One well aimed blow. His father said, that was how he defeated the Great Dragon.<strong>

**Arthur thought, he certainly didn't need that to defeat a dragon.**

**His father had always prided himself to be the one to eliminate the dragons. Arthur didn't trust Emrys' version of the event – and he knew better than to bring up the topic again – but if it was something Father King always boosted to the guests, then it must indeed be a great accomplishment. **

**Honestly, Arthur didn't understand what the acclamation was about.**

**No one knew that – but he defeated a dragon, albeit a small one, almost one an everyday basis. **

**A belly-stroke and his opponent would be rolling on the ground, convulsing with laughter. He just had to watch out for the claws though. Emrys was terribly sorry for scratching him. He didn't mind that particularly, as long as it was not on the face – many knights had scars and they were a mark of their victories – though an eye patch would be cool too.**

* * *

><p>The Black Knight barely regarded the knight in front of him; he arched his head slightly so that his line of sight was somewhere at the speculator stand, on – there Arthur peered to his sides suspiciously – oh, him.<p>

Arthur imagined his ferocious stare through the narrow slit of the helmet, because beneath all those flamboyant shadow tricks of his head gear, the knight really ought to have a pair of eyes.

It was intimidating – he might add that design to the knights of Camelot someday.

The Black Knight's target was _him_, Arthur realised. His gut twisted; He dreaded for Sir Owain.

The battle commenced, and as Arthur's fear came true, the cocky smile on Sir Owain's face quickly disappeared. He saw the man struggling to defend himself against his foe's rain of hack and slash.

'One well aimed bow!' Arthur shouted through the cheers and boos of the crowd. Sir Owain was knocked to the ground, he winced. The young knight barely had time to roll out of the next killing blow.

Owain dodged and ducked, and Arthur's heart leapt with him.

Eventually Sir Owain had the opportunity to realise Arthur's strategy. One misplaced shield exposed the Black knight's abdomen, and Sir Owain swiftly ran his sword through it –

Arthur smiled in relief –

–Then the Black Knight shoved Sir Owain to the ground, catching him off guard and drove his black sword _straight down_.

_No… NO!_

There were screams and gasps shattered among the crowds, as most were too stunned for the witness they bore. Mothers shielded their sons in their chest.

_It couldn't be happening! Owain's blow had hit!_ _His eyes couldn't be deceiving him..._

Then he hoped his eyes were truly deceiving him.

Sir Owain body hit the ground at the same time with the gauntlet.

Arthur rose with his fury, fist clenched till his joints cracked, but an unexpected arm on his shoulder made him turn and another man took his position.

Arthur glared dagger at his father.

'I, Sir Pellinor, take up the challenge.'

The Black Knight paused, looking up to the speculator _at him_ before answering.

'So be it. '

* * *

><p>Should Sir Pellinor be in his prime condition, he was more than a match for the Black Knight, but Pellinor had yet to recover from his wound at Athandon. Arthur knew they were friends, Owain and Pellinor; They enjoyed visiting the taverns together.<p>

Maybe Sir Pellinor could beat him. From what he had seen, the Black Knight's skill was good, but not the top tier, and Sir Owain could have been beaten him, if not for his uncanny blasted darn luck.

And if it was _just_ bad luck that Owain's sword hadn't hit...

Despite everything, he couldn't let Sir Pellinor fought for him. He was the crown prince. He wouldn't cower behind his knights. This of course ended once again in a nice quarrel with his father. Just what he was looking for. Maybe next time he should knock before he entered –he hated it when Merlin didn't lock, so would his father – huh, it was logical.

'Father! You are killing him!'

'The knight knows the consequence when he took up the gauntlet.'

Sometimes Uther's coldness shocked him. Did he really don't care at all, or was that a facade he held to keep the kingdom running?

If Sir Pellinor were to fight for him, he would at least give him some advantages. He would research on the Black Knight; His combat style, where he received his training, his past battle – _anything_ that could expose a weakness.

'Geoffrey, do you recognize the chest of the Black Knight?' The old archivist was at his usual table at the library. He rose to greet the prince, knocking over a pile of books in his stiff movement. Geoffrey was getting on his age, he should probably visit his old teacher more often, if he was allergic to old paper – yes, he was, no one believed in him!

Arthur caught several titles of the books – they were tomes about various houses and crests.

'Yes I do, my lord. But I fear I have grim news.' Geoffrey's tone and face all spoke the same thing. Arthur squared his shoulder uneasily. Somehow it didn't surprise him.

'I have to know.'

'The Black Knight bears the crest of Tristan Dubois. And only one person carries such crest –'

'My mother's brother. ' His heart sank like a boulder in cold water. When Tristan blamed Uther for Ygraine's death, he came to the gates of Camelot to challenge Uther. His father had killed him in a single combat , and while his father had claimed to have killed many thing, many later, like that dragon, turned out to be alive, Tristan was really _dead_. Arthur had seen his grave somewhere beneath the castle.

Rumors had it that he cursed Camelot of his return one day in his dying breath.

That was more than twenty years ago…

'Sir Pellinor was going to fight him tomorrow.' He said, more to himself, more to convince himself all that was going to happen.

'I am sorry Arthur.' The archivist held him with sad eyes. He had just brought Sir Owain's body back to the castle, last evening he saw Peillinor and Owain heading off to the Prancing Pony, yesterday morning was his crowning ceremony, the night before yesterday he was kicking under his bed cloths in excitement…

What's wrong with the world? Things were happening so fast that he couldn't catch up.

Just yesterday he swore to protect Camelot, now his people were dying.

He never felt so powerless in his life.

* * *

><p>Sir Pellinor was dead.<p>

This time he saw it clear and clean. The sword had literally run through the chest of the Black Knight, protruding out on his back like a spear on a fish –then he beheaded Pellinor, who was defenseless because his own sword was still _struck_ in the Black Knight's body.

He threw _his_ gauntlet at the Black Knight before anyone could stop him.

'I, Arthur Pendragon, challenge you. Single combat. Noon tomorrow.'

'So be it.' The Black Knight nodded slightly.

Arthur thought he could hear a note of satisfaction in his cold voice. He strode back to the castle, Merlin and Uther on his heels. He allowed himself the leisure to wonder for a moment who would get to him first.

* * *

><p>It turned out to be a guard he didn't even know the name of.<p>

'My lord…the knight is our doom…he is unbeatable…I suggest…I plead you to revoke your challenge…'

He _hated_ man stuttering , tripping over his own words like an imbecile. His anger was tasting the air, he glared at the man, who flattered and took a step backward before the wall blocked his escape.

'I will fight him and I will defeat him. And I wanted no more of that nonsense. Understand?' The words left his mouth with more confidence than he had inside. The nameless guard fled, wisely.

* * *

><p><strong>One well aimed blow. His father said, that was how he defeated the Great Dragon.<strong>

**Sometimes Arthur didn't have to leave a finger.**

**Dragons were stupid. He made up the widest lies and Emrys would always gulp them in. Like a flying horse, like eating carrot turned your tongue orange, like telling lies made your nose grew long – Emrys was terribly frightened by the last image. **

**He once told Emrys about a red hooded knight, giving candies to good children at the night of the Hallow's Eve. This got the dragon staying up all night, patrolling the cave, trying to catch the knight and took all his candies. When Arthur showed up the next day, his bag bulged with sweets he sneaked from the kitchen, Emrys sulked. For a week, his wings drooled, believing that he was not a good boy. Arthur took full advantage of that. **

**Eventually Arthur got tired of the game before Emrys realised the hoax. **

**He actually liked someone to argue with him.**

* * *

><p>Merlin found him on the battlement –a downside of having a servant who knew him too well.<p>

When he was summoned to the council chamber, he was actually surprised why he wasn't called earlier.

Uther stood grim faced by the window, watching the Black Knight down at the square. Merlin stood beside Gaius holding a stack of tombs, which held his head from view.

'Father, what do you wish to see me for?' He played innocence, not that it would help anyway – it probably just made him look dumb.

'Arthur you must withdraw from the match.' Like always, Uther's command left no room for argument, but unlike the many times before, today he wouldn't back down.

'I challenged him. The knight code must be honored.' Arthur replied squarely.

'You have no idea who the knight is! Gaius!' Anger simmered just beneath the surface of the king's voice. At his command, the physician started explaining while Merlin flipped open a book –

That was the emblem he had seen on the knight's crest –Silver eagle and Black Field.

'It was the crest of Tristan Dubois.'

Too bad they had missed the chance – Gaius' word would have been dramatic if he hadn't known it already.

'I defeated him myself, more than twenty years ago. I saw his body laid in the tomb.' Uther strode towards Arthur, trying to blend him to his will with his frame.

'And the tomb was now broken out. I have checked the vault.' Gaius added for his king.

'How come the dead man is alive again?'

There was a flurry of activities as Merlin dropped all the books and another round of motions as Merlin handed another book to Gaius and the physician took out his glasses. All these hustle and bustle would have been funny, like some insistent merchant, if they weren't preaching for his life. It gave him a sense of importance – wait, he was the crown prince –

'The knight was a wraith. A creature conjured from grave by powerful dark magic, harnessing the intense emotion of its death. Such creature cannot be harmed by mortal weapons and would not rest until its dying wish is completed.'

So it was worse than he thought – the knight didn't use magic, he was magical. Arthur mentally curled his lips and clicked his fingers_. Just great_.

Arthur signed. The trio at the chamber all watched him expectantly.

'I will not revoke my challenge.'

The trio gaped at him at various degrees of indignation and shock.

'Then you are going to die son!'

'Once the challenge had been laid down it cannot be rescinded.'

'You are the crown prince.'

Arthur stared at his father, at what he was implying.

'The Knight's Code must be upheld. There cannot be one rule for me, and one for all the rest. Two nights ago I vowed to uphold the laws of Camelot and to protect my people. I will not betray that oath. '

'How could you be so stupid? You have to revoke the challenge.'

_Why everyone think he was stupid? He was NOT!_

'I won't.'

* * *

><p><strong>The knights stood in formation with their chin high, mighty and regal as the king. <strong>

**They brought back a legendary sword – the Sword of Sir Marhaus**** –****everyone was so proud of them.**

**Some knights didn't make it back from the quest he heard, and their names were praised and remembered. A feast was held in their honor. He loved the dessert.**

**That day he learnt of pride and glory, and how death was just a price.**

* * *

><p>Over the castle, he met servants whose looks read – oh no the prince is going to die tomorrow.<p>

It was extremely irritating. He knew he was being illogical but – did they have so little faith in him?

Geoffrey had left his library and applied the same strategy as Gaius- dumping a mountain of books on his desk- all of them, he claimed, were records of people killed by a wraith. Arthur was pretty sure there were more names on the pages than the rodents in Camelot, which was really impressive, so it had to be a fraud.

Soon his name would add to the long list on the books.

A rather sad epilogue to his short life, but at least he died honored, in battle, and that's what he had always hoped for.

Almost all the lords had come into his chamber in that short day one by one, repeating the same argument as his father. Nobles flocked like flies and pleading puppies – he didn't notice there were so many nobles in Camelot – where did they go everyday? In the end he had had enough and decided to go for a walk outside the castle. If it was his last evening he was determined to spend it un-annoyed.

The people stared at him.

Well, he wasn't surprised because not very often a well dressed man came alone to the lower town. Then a man stepped in front of him and asked,

'Are you Prince Arthur, my lord?'

Of course he was. Unsuspecting, with an almost infantile trust in his people, he upheld the virtue of honesty. All hell broke loose when he replied in affirmative.

Some people were on the verge of tears. They pleaded him not to fight tomorrow, saying that they trusted him and that the prince didn't have to prove anything to them. It seemed the news of him dueling the immortal knight had spread through the entire Camelot, and who knew what twisted version they were hearing. He _knew_ he wasn't fighting eight foot tall giant for certain, that was hard to miss even for him.

Anytime, Arthur would have been touched by the way his people cared about him. But now it just made him fled back to his chamber.

They didn't understand. There were things more important than life – life was but a fleeting moment, a flower of passing beauty – glory lasted forever; his name would outlive and be sung by the children of his people. Rather died a hero than to live a coward. He had to protect his people. He was the crowned prince of Camelot, it was his duty to sacrifice, sometimes his life, for his people.

The knight wanted him as revenge. So if this was the only way to stop him, let him had it.

No one would die for him again.

* * *

><p>It was in a tense atmosphere that Arthur had his dinner, he knew Merlin would say something –most probably many things, and his prediction came true half-way through the meal, and continued till he was long finished.<p>

His argument was something along the line of proving his wisdom instead of courage. No, Merlin was wrong. He had mistaken the pathetic wit of cowardice as wisdom. So Arthur focused his attention on his sword instead. He loved his sword, secretly he had named it Delilah.

Over the increscent rattling of his servant, Arthur opted to watch his doom outside his window, which was far more interesting indeed. There was a speck of white on his helmet – courtesy of the avian armies of Camelot. He itched to send Merlin to clean it – Arthur Pendragon, killed in single combat to Knight of Bird Droppings – he didn't want to be remembered that way.

On the humor side, _his_ armour was spotless, always. He took pride on seeing his reflection on his gauntlet – such perfection.

He would miss it, his gauntlet, and all those who shone in his life.

Absent-mindedly, he listened to Merlin's plead while shaking his head every once in a while. It all culminated to a moment when his insolent servant yelled at him.

'If you fight him, you will die! I am trying to warn you, Arthur.'

'And I'm trying to warn you, Merlin!'

Without meaning to, his sword was inches from his servant's neck. He didn't realize he was angry, but now he was fuming.

Silence.

That silent hurt on his face.

His heart tweaked painfully as the impact of the event knocked the fury off his chest. It hung above him in a detached way –it was still there, but it wasn't.

His friend stared at him, swallowing the words on his lips, and left Arthur alone with an empty chamber.

Arthur was stoned. What had he done?

Unable to think, he resumed his practice.

* * *

><p>The chamber was too large. The night was too long.<p>

Arthur wished Merlin was here. He regretted hurting his friend that way. He could use some bantering to distract him from the fear. Rough and hard, his heart burned in his chest.

The top of his bed was red, like his curtain, something he had never noticed before.

With a shake of his head, he got up and walked over to the window.

There, in the centre of the square, stood the Black Knight, motionless in the deep of the night, impervious to the chill and fear.

How could he defeat something like that? Merlin was right. Something that didn't need to eat or drink or breathe. Something that radiated fear and desperation with its sheer presence.

He would rid Camelot of this monster though, tomorrow, with his life.

A flicker of flame brought his attention to a narrow valley leading to the square. A man shrouded in the shadow of the walls, beside a fire cauldron on a stand, from his position, Arthur guessed he was watching the knight. A silhouette of a certain piece of triangular fabric shone light on the person's identity.

What the hell was Merlin doing down there!

If he thought he could bluff the knight to defeat, then he must be more an idiot than he thought.

If he was trying to sneak a blow on him –no way – Merlin was rubbish with a sword and he couldn't walk quiet even if his life depended on it.

Just when every time he thought there was another side to the man, a …wise… side, Merlin would turn his imagination sour within hours.

The black knight was still fortunately oblivious.

He was debating whether to drag his manservant back to the castle when there was movement below.

The fire from the cauldron danced like erratic snakes, casting slithering shadows on his face. Merlin took a step forward, and Arthur saw him slowly raising his arm.

What the –

* * *

><p>Author's note: oh no.<p>

First, thanks for everyone who review. It really tells me how I should continue writing the story and how not to put everyone to sleep. I wish I could write better for all your kind words. You make me tear up in joy and kick around in my bed.

I am sorry for ending here, but the chapter grew to be a monster, every sentence I cut two more come back. It jut sprang out of control, hope it wasn't too boring. I want to keep the weekly update so I cut it in two.

Was Arthur too hyper in this chapter? I am trying to be funny, but I am not a funny person, most of the time I am just hyper, or insane as my friends call me. Should I sober up?

I would never use a flashy spell when the knight is clearly visible from Arthur's window. Come on, everyone can see that ring of fire.

Next chapter: Oh. Merlin had some explaining to do – not what you think. Still, well, _well…_


	9. Chapter 9: Our solemn hour

Our solemn hour

AN: continue from last chapter…

* * *

><p>The fire from the basin danced like erratic snakes, casting slithering shadows on his face. Merlin took a step forward, and Arthur could see him slowly raising his arm.<p>

What the –

The fire in the basin exploded in a mighty bang, with... a creepy bust of wind – that was the only explanation.

Merlin fell on his bottom, startled.

The black knight was still motionless, fortunately.

Arthur was relieved when his idiotic servant beat a retreat.

* * *

><p><strong>Emrys took Gwen's sword away.<strong>

**Arthur noticed Gwen trailing behind him – a wave of raven locks behind the pillar, a scalp of dress around the corner, a startled head among the bushes. **

**Smirking, Arthur skipped into another corridor and crouched down. An unsuspecting Gwen walked by, yelping in surprise as something – or someone jerked on her dress.**

'**Catch you Gwen!'**

'**Arthur you scare me!'**

**His grin broadened at her praise, confirmation of his accomplishment.**

**The pair was still squatting, heads inches from each other, her locks swung, a fluffy itch on his neck. Then Arthur noticed the bags under her eyes.**

'**Your eyes…Gwen, what's wrong?'**

**Gwen hesitated. She bit her lips. As she dropped her head, her hair brushing on Arthur's. He blushed.**

'**Arthur...I need the sword back.'**

**Oh.**

**He stood up abruptly, blinking furious and mouth open. He watched the horror on her face when he admitted – he had lost it – and he had completely forgotten about it. When she left, there were bright tears in her eyes.**

**He didn't know her father, but he guessed all fathers were alike, and Gwen was in great troubles.**

**Guilty, he bought her a small deer token, a small compensation. On the reddish brown wood, a doe was grazing under a spring tree with eyes closed in contentment. Glossy and smooth, the token reminded him of Gwen in a garden of butterflies and roses.**

**Of course, Bernard was the one to pay for it.**

* * *

><p>Guinevere knocked, then she rushed in.<p>

Arthur stopped his pacing and held up his hands when Guinevere crossed the room in a series of hurried steps.

'Arthur!' She was fighting against herself – what to say, what not to say - the conflict was in her eyes.

'Is that true? The knight is undefeatable?' She whispered. Without waiting for a reply, she buried herself in the hollow of his shoulder.

'Yes …' She had squeezed the air out of him, but the answer wasn't necessary. She knew – and the question was just something she said when she had no word.

'I will be fine…Guinevere.'

She nodded grimly, she didn't believe in him, but she didn't say anything. He couldn't have answered anyway.

'You are fighting him tomorrow?'

'Yes…'

He tried to put his voice casual, like it was one of the hundreds knights he had faced. He didn't want Guinevere to worry.

'Then I will be cheering for you at the stand. You will defeat him Arthur.'

There was pain when she choked out the words. But she smiled at him and his heart broke. She knew what he was facing, and she understood what he had to do – He had a duty to protect his knights and his people. Pellinor and Owain shouldn't have died.

His nobility in heart drew her to him, and now it seemed it would break them apart.

* * *

><p>The fire had been a warning and a hint – the Old Religion's way of smacking him in the head. Sometimes Gaius was right – his talent was wasted on the wrong person. The breath of his kind was revered and feared for a reason. How could he miss that? A cold gust howled by, he rustled his wings in annoyance –all right I am doing it! –the Old Religion surely was cranky.<p>

Retrieving the bundle beneath his loose floorboard, he set forth to the cave again.

It was fitting to gift back the sword to Arthur, the virgin sword he had somehow acquired years ago.

He snorted. Knowing Arthur, he must have left quite a mess behind.

He had no idea how to forge a blade, but he didn't need to. He remembered the first time the druids taught him a spell - Forbeane. It was the simplest of all, a yawn in a tournament, but he repeated the spell with the children all morning and still couldn't get a spark. Then he grew frustrated and _thought_, the tent burst into flame.

Just as his instinct with magic, if he wanted it, he could do it, and if the Old Religion approved.

Some nights, the thought of Old Religion governing his life saddened him, but some other nights, it relieved his burden.

It was also warming to know someone was sharing his destiny, namely, the royal prat sulking somewhere above his cave. Not the ideal candidate, he always itched to turn him into a toad, but he took pride in his level of tolerance.

Nothing in that prat's destiny would have worked without him, but then that's the same for him.

He spent the first half of his free years in the wilderness, in the company of his kins, the magical creatures. He hunted with gryphons, sang with nymphs and hibernated with the snowman. He was free, and his magic prompted him to writhe and thrive with the earth as one.

Then the Old Religion intervened, sending him to a hermitic clan of druids among the mountains in a rolling chariot of snowball. He learned about magic, spells, and how to walk on two legs.

When it was time to go back, he dreamed of a blonde man devoured by a snake monster. He decided the best way was to sleep over it – he was nonplused and the man had looked really dumb. Closing his eyes, the same scenery came over him, this time another man was shouting _ARTHUR. _The shout thundered into his head, he catapulted up, it felt like the Old Religion was jerking at his throat. Breathless, he rubbed the rings from his ears – the Old Religion could be obnoxiously loud and straight-forward at times.

It was probably another warning – for the sound-abuse he was about to get from the prat.

Moonlight glistered on his wings, with a gentle stroke, he was hovering in the air, and Arthur's sword followed. It floated in front of him, rusty from years of wind and rain. His magic rose, a warm fire crackling in his chest. It entwined with the moonlight, a tingling brush on the scales.

That was it. What the Old Religion wanted him to do.

_Arthur. _He thought. _Arthur._

He opened his maw; Instead of the gold tinted fire the druids loved to cook on, it was a fine golden mist.

The mist drifted over to the blade, encasing it with a soft halo. A hue that reminded him of dawning sky and dying embers. A tangible sensation, distant like mountain echo and subtle like weeds sprout.

Light faded, the mist seeped into the blade, entwined with the fabrics that made the sword.

The magic laid dormant, sleeping till the touch of its rightful owner.

He felt drained – sleeping was a good option now –Arthur better appreciated his effort.

* * *

><p><strong>After three days of feast and celebration, Arthur could finally sneak some time with his dragon.<strong>

**Ignored for days, Emrys was not impressed at all.**

'**I thought you died. ' He said, tail twitching in a irritated manner. 'And people above were having a commotion about it.'**

''**It was a celebration Emrys! There were dances and –'**

'**So they are celebrating your death?'**

'**Emrys!' He warned, but nothing could spoil his good mood. He danced on his heels. 'Have you seen the sword of Narsil? Legends say it was forged in dragon's breath.'**

**Emrys perked up instantly.**

'**Why would your father allow something magical?'**

'**Gaius said the sword's magic only responds to its owner Sir Marhaus, and it is too heavy for anyone else to use. But still –' Arthur took a deep breath of excitement – 'it is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.'**

**'You are seven, that hardly means anything.'**

**'You are just jealous Emrys.'**

**'Not at you. You don't have the sword either.'**

**'One day I will!**'

* * *

><p>'Rise and shine!'<p>

Arthur didn't remember falling asleep last night, but he must have. In a flourish, Merlin flung open the curtain and sunlight flooded into his room. Arthur grimaced and sluggishly raised his arm.

'Breakfast is served Sire!'

Everything was just so … ordinary. Just like every other day, his excessively cheerful servant woke him to the rising sun, shove him lukewarm breakfast on a dirty tray. With a light spring in his step, Merlin went for his wardrobe while Arthur dragged himself to the table.

His bottom spread on the chair, like a deep sigh unfurling.

So, this was his last breakfast, he thought amused. Still those disgusting apples, huh? He would _chop_ them, _cut_ them, _hack_ them into thousands of pieces…

Before he put his murderous plan into action, he decided to get it over with.

'Split it out Merlin.'

'Huh?' Merlin looked up from the floor, cloth in hand, an innocent look that Arthur learned always signified the opposite. If he could use this look on his father…no…Uther would think he was enchanted…to bring shame on Camelot.

'If you want to tell me not to fight –'

'I'm not going to. I thought you heard enough of that already.'

Arthur cracked dryly. 'You can't imagine.'

'They talk to me too. They thought _I_ _could_ persuade you.'

'You can try.' He teased dangerously. Where did that impression come from! His ego was bruised! These people were certainly in need of some guidance.

'Nah. Nothing can get through that thick skull of yours.'

'_Mer_lin!'

'And I prefer my head on my neck.'

A retort rose, but Arthur spluttered before it hatched – he trained a sword on his neck last night – he shouldn't have done that. And he knew what he should do now. He bit his tongue to motivate it but the words wouldn't come out –stubborn tongue.

The moment passed. And he was disappointed in himself that, in these last moments, he still couldn't bring himself to apologise. Was he really that prideful?

'Are you afraid?' Arthur blinked. It surprised him how fast Merlin could change the topic. The tension ebbed away a little – now this was a topic he was familiar with.

Merlin had always put up with him – he was a good friend, possibly the best he ever had – though he suspected this partly had to do with his lower-than-average-intelligence –Merlin just couldn't remember what happened beyond the last few hours.

'Arthur?' His friend wriggled his fingers at his face, he stared cross-eyed, before shaking off his sappy musing. It must be one of those rare moments when he looked stupid, because Merlin was grinning. 'Too scared to speak?'

'No.' He deadpanned, masculinity and authority back in an instant, or so he wished. He cleared his throat. 'A warrior never feels fear. Fear is a luxury at battles.'

'I think only fools are not afraid.'

'Then you must be fearless.'

'Well I would be very afraid if I am facing an undefeatable knight in a few hours.'

'So what you think I can do?' His head tilted high in defiance; anger rose, fueled by a denied fear.

'Just don't deny your emotion. A brave man is not one who feels no fear, but one who is frightened but go on anyway.'

The fight left him, draining a hollow hole in his mind. Arthur sighed and wiped his face on his palms.

'Leave that floor Merlin... It isn't dirty anyway.'

* * *

><p>The knight was still standing at his old spot, Arthur saw him just beside the curve of his sausage.<p>

All his attempts to send Merlin away failed, and in the end his poor vase became another casualty of the Black Knight – it shattered when Merlin insisted it needed cleaning.

He should have let Merlin clean the floor, he couldn't break it, or… could he?

A clash announced the demise of his sole surviving vase.

A water pitcher fell.

'_Mer_lin!'

It was just like every other day. His servant took apart his chamber and Arthur struggled to finish his breakfast amidst the wreckage.

And just like every other day, Merlin apologised meekly and continued his destruction anyway.

Once again, Arthur marveled abstractedly at the absurdity of his dying day. Death brought the poet out of him.

By acting normal, Merlin must be trying to ease the tension.

But …Arthur thought he sensed a genuine happiness, or a certain smugness behind his grin; An eye that twinkled too much. If Arthur hadn't known the man from inside out, he would say his servant was excited for the day, which translated to his impending death.

That idiot, he surely had overdone it.

Then a new thought seized him. It frightened him.

Did he really know the man that well? Arthur hadn't exactly been treating his servant well...but Merlin never complained...no he had...

Sometimes…

Always…

Non-stop…

Come on! He risked his life to the spiders for him.

A jovial humming reached his ears. Arthur snapped.

'Are you happy that I am going to die?'

'No you are not. If you are I will be even happier.' Came the swift cheerful reply.

Arthur snorted into his juice. He was torn between the urge to strangle him and laughed.

There was another knock on the door. At this rate, his door would fall before him.

'Good morning, Sire.' Arthur blinked at the sudden appearance of the physician and the unfamiliar morning manners. Gaius held out a bottle of concoction.

'For your duel, Arthur. This concoction gives you _complete_ relaxation.'

Something _trickled_.

Arthur frowned at his choice of word. 'Gaius, should I drink it?

'It is your choice, I won't insist.' Arthur's frown deepened. On his side, Merlin was struggling to keep his expression neutral. Then it clicked together.

'Thanks Gaius. Just leave it here.'

He scratched his neck, and eww, there was a caterpillar.

* * *

><p><strong>He placed a fork in front of Emrys' muzzle. His breath condensed as tiny droplets on the handle.<strong>

**But the fork was dull as ever.**

**A spoon.**

**His toy sword.**

**Dragon's breath didn't work that way, Arthur was disappointed. Or maybe Emrys was just too small.**

**It made sense, because he had felt Emrys' hot breath on his cheeks many times and he wasn't changed in anyway.**

**One day, he told himself, no matter what, he would have a sword like that.**

* * *

><p>The morning passed in a blur. The sun was blinding when Arthur walked to the avenue. He heard voices from the tent and hastened his steps – he should have known.<p>

Inside Merlin was fending off King Uther.

'Sire, I don't have your armour-'

Arthur walked in, loudly, a talent he learned from his servant –of course he did it better, more grace less vulgar. Uther's head whipped up.

'Arthur! Why - what are you doing here!'

'Father, while I appreciate your intention, it is my duel. I will fight the Black Knight. ' Uther looked like a gulping fish, Arthur observed fondly. 'I split out the potion when Gaius wasn't looking. Gaius never gave me potion before match.' Arthur added and in silence, committed his father's face to memories, an illusion craved by the dying, now he understood.

'Arthur, I am doing this for you!

'I don't want you to die for me!'

Uther growled, exasperated. There was no convincing Arthur now, there never was. One last pleading glance, Arthur hardened his gaze, and Uther stormed out.

He sighed. He didn't want to die, but he had to do the right thing.

'Get me into the armor, Merlin.'

* * *

><p>From a bundle of frayed cloth, his servant unveiled a sword, the like of which he had never seen.<p>

It was a slivery sword with a board golden strip that ran from the hilt to the nip. The sword glowed - like it held an inner fire itself. The silver gleamed brighter than all silver combined. The gold sparkled brighter than all gold melted. The blade's sheer presence radiated _power_.

It made him felt small – such a blade should not be wielded by an _insignificant _man like him.

Arthur –small? –but such a thought didn't seem so preposterous to him at that time.

It was a sacrilege, that Merlin put it in a dirty bundle.

With great reverence, Arthur picked it up with both hands. Immediately like Merrkats on a plain, the hair of his arm rose. The sword seemed to sigh in satisfaction against his skin, a distant sensation akin to something awakening as it melted into his palm. He felt a shiver through his body, a warm wave of confidence and strength. In awe, he tried out a few swings.

The sword carved a beautiful golden crescent in the air. In its path, the air shimmered and quivered.

It had the perfect weight and the perfect balance. And it matched his moves like it had anticipated them.

It wasn't his sword. It easily surpassed it. What kind of blade could overshadow one from the royal forgery? This sword was fit for a king. A gem burnished from the heart blood of the royal blacksmiths of all kingdoms together. It was a treasure that kingdoms would fight for.

His voice came out awkward, like he had forgotten how to speak.

'Merlin – Where – where do you get this sword –'

His servant fidgeted under his gaze and, oh, there was that smug look again.

'Actually it's kind of funny, Arthur. Have you heard of the Sword in the Stone?'

'That was a legend.' Arthur stared. He had. Everyone had. It's like asking – have you heard of Arthur Pendragon. You haven't? Bless you. Welcome to the stock – What was Merlin implying?

'I don't believe it at first, thought it was just a tale. But one day I was collecting herbs for Gaius and I saw it - Sword, in a stone.' He finished his sentence in an excited hurry, gesturing towards the weapon on Arthur's hand.

'And you pull it out?' Arthur looked from the sword to Merlin and back. It was ridiculous, some people claimed to have seen the sword, but none could pull it out from its residence. It was said the sword only responded to the chosen one.

'I think the sword knows I can't use it anyway. So it let me take it and give it to the chosen one.'

'You think it's me?'

'Arthur, you are Albion's greatest warrior. It has to be you.' Merlin just shrugged casually. Arthur felt his eyes straining against his sockets, ramming like a pair of stallions.

'Why don't you give it to me earlier!'

'It just slipped my mind.' Merlin apologetically scratched his head and grinned.

'It just slipped your mind.' Arthur echoed. Merlin nodded frantically. It wasn't like his servant had much of a mind to start with. Something wasn't adding up. Then Merlin spoke again with feigned indignation.

'I am a busy man you know!'

'Trying out different taverns in Camelot does take time.'

'I am not in the taverns!'

That reminded Arthur of a certain escapade he witnessed last night.

'Explain to me why were you sneaking on the Black Knight if you were not drunk.'

'What –Arthur – You saw me?'

Arthur watched and wondered at the look of complete horror on his face. He was afraid of the blackmail? If so he should _think _before he did something that spectacularly stupid.

'You were standing by a cauldron of fire, idiot.'

Merlin spluttered and muttered something like stupid…fire…warning…religion…Arthur hoped he was talking about himself, not the cauldron.

'Merlin,' Arthur set down the sword solemnly on the table, letting out a breath he didn't realise holding. He scoffed his arm across his chest and adopted a very authoritative tone. Now time for the truth.

'What are you hiding from me?'

'Nothing. Sire!' Merlin answered too quickly. Arthur watched the flash of fear darted across his face.

'I_ know_.' Merlin paled even further. Encouraged, Arthur pressed. 'I know _everything_.' But then his servant suddenly grinned mischievous. Arthur felt he had said something wrong.

'Fine. Yes I have my secret.' Merlin held up a finger before Arthur could say anything. 'I will tell you – let me see – _tonight_.'

Arthur snorted. Trust Merlin to find a subtle way to say stay alive.

The bell rang, announcing the combat commence. He grabbed the sword and strode out. Once again, a sense of confidence and power filled him.

'Are you going to name it first?'

Arthur thought for a moment. A name came to his mind.

'Excalibur.'

* * *

><p>The sword was made for him.<p>

It felt like an extension of arm; he couldn't tell the point where his arm ended and the sword began. The sword cut through the air, fluid with no resistance.

With every swing, he felt like hurling down an entire mountain on his opponent but he didn't feel the strain at all.

The Black Knight had no chance of launching an attack of him own; Arthur hadn't even started sweating.

Here it goes. Arthur thought and drove the blade through his opponent's exposed chest.

At first there was nothing, no identification that his blow was any different from Sir Owain's or Pellinor's.

Then he saw it – on the reflective surface of the blade something pouring out from the wound –a black smoke, invisible to naked eyes.

The smoke dwindled, then the knight _exploded_, raining scalps of clothes and ashes on him.

Oh god he wanted a bath.

A gentle wind and there was nothing where the knight once stood.

* * *

><p>'I have never seen its equal.' Arthur observed the sword again against the last flame of dusk. He turned the blade, a mosaic of red and golden swirled with the motion.<p>

The sword was meant for him. He felt it keenly from the first touch.

'Really? Thank you Arthur!' Merlin sent him a wide grin.

'I am praising the blade. Not you.' Arthur stared at his servant pointedly. The man was certainly an idiot. He had no idea Arthur just saved his life. The explosion of a supposedly undefeatable knight was hard to miss. After a few pleasantries and congratulations, Uther drove to business and interrogated him on the sword.

'I got it from a local blacksmith. I saw a pendent on the Black Knight's chest and broke it. It must have destroyed the magic.'

There was no evidence to sabotage his statement, now that the knight and _his pendent_ were all ashes. And Uther had no reason to doubt him either – a perk in being a good boy all along.

Thankfully, because the sword was almost certainly magical. Uther had thin tolerance for magical artifact, and nil for sorcerer.

Merlin just had the gut and idiocy to gift him a magical sword.

He knew Merlin never wanted to kill him, and Merlin valued his life with his constant cheerfulness, but sometimes his action would suggest otherwise.

Did he know how reckless it was? Arthur would have to talk some senses into his servant sometimes, probably with a visit to the stock. But now he had a promise to collect, a drama to watch. He leaned back on his chair with a shadow of a smile.

'So what is the secret you promise to share?'

'Arh – Arthur – I thought I could get away with it. You know – I did said _tonight –_'

'Cut it –' Arthur booed like a bored audience.

'Okay. Now Arthur–' He took a deep breath, which in Arthur's opinion was too dramatic.

'I told you my parent was dead. Yes...they were… But… I've found a father – in Gaius.'

Arthur stared. He had wanted to frown, but then he nodded instead.

He would be lying if he told himself he wasn't disappointed.

Merlin didn't make that up impromptu – he knew the man's voice when he was sincere.

But this wasn't a secret, not the secret Arthur was so sure he was hiding, not the secret that would explain to him that constant nudging – the familiarity and rightness – he felt with Merlin.

But for now it was enough. His friend had done enough for him today.

It took all his will power to convince himself to drop the topic– like there was a feast within mouth-reach but the king was still making his speech.

His revelation wasn't a secret, but it took equal courage to admit.

Arthur let him go this time.

His friends raised his eyes from his shoes, a sheepish smile and sparkling eyes.

Once again he wondered what could Merlin possibly be hiding?

One day he would know – he reassured himself –the idiot simply lacked the required intelligence to keep a secret.

* * *

><p>Still something just didn't add up. What was the chance of someone like Merlin finding a sword like that? Well Arthur had no other explanation. Ridiculous things went around his servant, that was it.<p>

Did Gaius know? The physician used to dabble in sorcery so he knew the sword would work.

That would explain about the sleeping draft.

He set down the sword on the table, exhaled. Though he was good at it, he didn't like thinking,

'Arthur? What are you going to do with the sword?'

'Sword, ah, _my sword_.' He mused aloud, inside he was squeaking like a child, that sword was _his!_ Time to think of a solution now. That – that required his brilliant brain again. The sword had been sitting on his table all night, and this way, there wasn't enough space to hold all his dinner and dessert. 'It is too dangerous to go to the store room.'

'You can't just throw it away!' Merlin quickly protested.

'I am not! Unlike you, I know a treasure when I see one.'

'Is there an award for the one who bring you the treasure?'

'Why yes.' Arthur resisted the urge to laugh at Merlin's hopeful face. Who knew what the idiot wanted –Some brains maybe? Arthur could entertain him on that. 'Here is a golden piece of advice for free – use your head _Mer_lin!'

'That is so_ generous _of you my lord, but you need it more than I do.'

'Ha. Another advice for you – and it may save your life – don't insult your prince.'

'Arthur? I've _never _done that.' He said with a look of utter innocence before laughing out himself.

After a few banters and good laugh to celebrate his victory, they found a solution.

* * *

><p>Safe under his bed, the sword now slept on velvet in an elegantly carved box.<p>

He was hiding a magical sword in his chamber, under the hopefully-not-very-long nose of Uther.

Sometimes he questioned his decision, but a look at his sword would justify the risk.

Or was it just sorcery, doing its usual of corrupting him?

He didn't feel evil, he did the right thing by killing the wraith with the sword. To play safe still, he refrained from using it again.

Still it had challenged lots of his believes.

He saw Merlin dropped his bun on the floor, wiped it on his sleeves and placed it back on the tray. If he was evil, his servant would probably lose more than just his job.

Wait – was that the same bun he was eating now!

He never asked Merlin to polish the sword, because Merlin and magic together would mean disasters. Despite the lack of maintenance, the sword was sharp as ever, its glamour never diminishing. If it was indeed the one in the stone, it certainly had sustained more hardship in the wild before moving to his room.

Arthur was no expert on legends. Uther was too paranoid for these bedtime stories.

He asked Geoffrey about legendary swords and received a fable.

_Sir Marhaus, looked at the sword begotten in dragon's flame and found it passing good_.

_Oh._ _That sword. _He didn't remember what happen to it; probably it was in a luxury room along with other treasures.

If the legend was right, someone had forged Excalibur_,__ for him_.

His last thought was: Sir Marhaus was one finicky man. Arthur added another to his long list of _Virtues of Prince Arthur._

* * *

><p>AN: Okaykay. I am sorry. Not the reveal you are expecting. Arthur is slow. Thanks for all those reading and are best presents for an author. I run out of words after this long chapter.<p>

Next one: the kinslayer. A chapter in which Arthur really saved the day while being thick as ever. Here it goes: someone arrives in Camelot (again), someone is accused of sorcery (again), some whump (is that the term?), Arthur used his incredible power of observation (really? )and _found his true love (really?)._


	10. Chapter 10: The Kinslayer

The Kinslayer

* * *

><p>Arthur hated the man at first-sight – his speech was as oily as his brown mess of hair. Within minutes in the council chamber, his words were already sliding him into his goal, like the slithering liquid.<p>

Call it a gut feeling – he was always right – or maybe it's just his hair.

'This place reeks of sorcery.' Aredian said.

Arthur's brow rose lazily, in contrast to his racing heart on his throat. Uther had no such subtlety – upon hearing the key words, he leaned forward on his throne, hand stroking his chin in captivation.

'How do you know?' Uther urged.

The witchfinder retrieved a small object from his robe. Balanced on his hand like a gem, was a pair of lens, with golden graving upon foggy glasses, otherwise plain.

'My lords, this lens were a family heirloom. It allows the wielder to _see _magic. I must urgently inform you that magic is everywhere in the castle, an hideous golden net on all of us. Something must be done immediately, or I fear for Camelot.'

Uther squared his jaw, furious at the scenario described – no wonder, for a kingdom so hateful of magic, they were ridiculously surrounded by it. Morgana for example, and the forger of his sword.

Arthur had some idea of the golden net around Camelot – it may have to do with a certain sword in his chamber.

A crow corked, Arthur felt a cold wave of dread up his spine – the sword …

'Aredian, find the sorcerer.'

* * *

><p><strong>Emrys was great with smoke.<strong>

**Blowing smoke from two nostrils at the same time, and popping the cloud with his snout, that would be a smoke ring.**

**Shaking his head up and down, that would be a long and fat caterpillar.**

**Rolling his head in a circle, and that would be a coiled up snake, Ermys said. Arthur thought it looked more like dungs.**

**Arthur watched ****mesmerized ****as the last smoke ribbon drifted away****.**

**'The last one!' Emrys exclaimed, ' And you have get closer!'**

**Arthur shuffled forward, pulling his bottom along the rocks. **

**When they were just inches away, Emrys snorted a cloud directly onto his face.**

* * *

><p>'Arthur, what did the witchfinder say?'<p>

'Nonsense, in my opinion.'

'Last time I check, everyone is speaking nonsense in your opinion.'

'Not everyone –' Arthur tapped his spoon on the table, as if to shake off his nervousness – 'most of the time it's just you.'

'And the witchfinder.'

Arthur frowned, after moments of consideration he gave up. Something about placing Merlin and Aredian in the same category irked him.

* * *

><p>The witchfinder wasted no more in executing his specialty. With his lens on his nose, he sniffed into every corner of the castle, Arthur trailed closely behind.<p>

They stopped in his chamber.

Excalibur was in plain view on the table – he had forgotten to place it back under his bed.

But Aredian didn't even pat an eye at it. Arthur almost expected him to make a dramatic turn and tackle him to the floor.

Instead he dove straight into his wardrobe and frowned.

He flung out several of his undergarment of the floor, his nose uncomfortably close to the fabrics as he squinted in exertion– now it was Arthur's turn to frown.

Aredian missed.

* * *

><p>Arthur expected the Aredian to admit his mistakes and leave for good, so when the witchfinder declared there was a sorcerer living in the castle, his opinion of him plummeted to a record-breaking low.<p>

'I am sorry my king. The sorcerer or sorceress has caught wind of my arrival. He must have hid his presence – all sorcerers could hide the evilness within, to a varying extent depending on their power. My lens can now only identify the magical residue on the objects he casted on. '

_Either you are extremely incompetent, or you are lying. Either way – leave!_ Arthur shooed in his mind.

Uther worked his jaws, like he was chewing a particularly tough streak, and Arthur felt his luck swallowed with it.

* * *

><p>'Does Aredian say how he will find the sorcerer?'<p>

According to the witchfinder, the omnipresent residue in the castle signified a habitual user, who would slip eventually. And when he did, his lens would be able to identify the golden eyes of the sorcerer within a day of using magic. Together with a pile of nonsense, Arthur made it short.

'He has a pair of magic-seeing lens, or so he says. And he said there was a high priest living the castle. Ridiculous! Next time there will be an giant octopus beneath us.' Arthur snorted and Merlin scoffed awkwardly with him. Unfortunately Uther wasn't sharing his sentiment – his father just wasn't as smart as him.

Satisfied that his servant had shared his sentiment – a beginning of wisdom – he continued, 'A high priest in the castle, and our castle hasn't toppled. The priest must be really incompetent.'

'Ha…Hmm, that's impossible…'

'Like I say. There is only one person so incompetent in the world and that is _you._'

There was an awkward silence.

'Me?' Merlin ventured nervously. Arthur could technically hear the man swallow. That girl.

'Come on! You can't be. You can't do anything, let alone magic.'

His servant laughed weakly. Seriously Merlin really thought Arthur would suspect him? He had seriously overestimated himself.

'I am pretty sure the witchfinder is a hoax, he won't find anything.' And he had missed the magical sword right in front of him!

Everyone had been anxious about the witchfinder, but Merlin was exceedingly so. Then Arthur knew – he was _really observant_ in that aspect.

'Don't worry. If Gaius has given up on magic, he won't be detected.'

'Thanks Arthur.'

* * *

><p>So that was the witchfinder's plan.<p>

Every occupant in the castle was to report to him every day, in groups of different time slots, with the exception of the king and the prince. For once Arthur didn't complain about the inequality – the episode with his undergarment still unnerved him.

Aredian reassured Uther, who he dabbed as the magic slayer – greatest warrior against sorcery –the savior of Albion –that the sorcerer would be found in no time.

Arthur thought sorely that if Morgana was still here, she would be exempted too – right under his nose.

As Arthur enjoyed his breakfast, determined to think Aredian just as some visiting nobles, the bell rang.

It had been a nausea these days. Every morning Merlin had to report the witchfinder, right in the middle of his breakfast, Arthur wasn't pleased. It wasn't like he couldn't eat himself –no, definitely not the case.

Bored with no one to shout or throw at, he decided to follow.

That was ridiculous.

Arthur watched as the servants stood like convicts, heads bowed and hands in the back in a line. Aredian strode in front, reading off a name list in his hand. Anger rose.

Who did the man think he was? Who had the authority to manipulate his people like this!

Arthur crossed his arm in disagreement. At the flank of the line, Merlin smiled at him.

'You are terrorizing my people. There is no sorcerer here.'

A gesture from the witchfinder and the servants scattered off like frightened birds; Merlin hesitated, but a nod from Arthur sent him away.

The chamber grew silent.

'The mist horse, the fire goblin, the screaming faces in the well. The witnesses all beg to differ, my lord.'

'They could be under the effect of brewage.' Tavern - the answer to everything.

'There is magic in the castle, I swear on my reputation.'

'I judge a man on his deeds, not his reputation.'

'Wise words, my lord.' Aredian bowed, eyes glinted dangerously behind the lens.

* * *

><p>A few days crept by, nerve-wrecking and painfully slow for the castle of Camelot. Despite the lack of progress, Aredian didn't show any sign of leaving.<p>

'The man uses torture,' Arthur squeezed his paper in a crumble, Merlin paled. His reputation was wide-spread, a savior hailed by kings and lords of his employment, a demon cursed by other occupants of the castle or city.

Aredian liked leaving a trail of dead bodies behind him, a wicked hobby, Arthur preferred bread clumps.

'From what I heard from the other kingdoms, he is unforgiving.' He closed his eyes. 'Merlin, he never missed.'

* * *

><p>Gaius filled away his latest potion on the shelf, almost tripping as he stepped down from ladder.<p>

He was worried.

He _was _a sorcerer, magic was something he channeled, not owned. The witchfinder had no impact on his life – he would not use magic, just as he hadn't in the past twenty years.

But his ward was a warlock. It would only be time until he broke, until the desire to use something that came naturally to him burned him from inside out. Merlin was resisting, but Gaius knew, from experience. He had seen warlocks and witches in the Purge crumbled one by one, in their filthy cells, the power within couldn't be contained and denied.

He had to do something. Aredian had laced his roots around Uther, he wouldn't go without a toll, for the sake of his reputation and the golds.

He was old. His life would be over shortly no matter what.

He hoped his position in the court would spare his life.

If not, he was old anyway.

* * *

><p>When did Merlin start walking so fast?<p>

Everything he suggested a hunt, his lazy servant would drag his feet along the floor, complaining and fussed all along, like a sorcerer dragged to the pyre.

Okay, that wasn't the best analogy at the moment, more like – a girl.

Arthur stopped abruptly, and blinked – he had lost sight of Merlin. Arthur's lips curled as he hastened his steps.

There, several corridors ahead of him, Merlin was waiting and rolling on the balls of his feet.

Arthur closed his arms, an apologetic grin, but the impatient rocking never ceased.

Heat rose in his chest. Before Arthur could open his mouth, he saw Merlin's smile fell like rocks off a cliff .

Turning, the golden edge of the witchfinder's glass pierced his eyes.

'Greeting, my lord. May I ask where are you going?'

'That, is none of your business.' The prince answered coldly. Aredian ignored it.

'To the armory, my prince? The training session ended, so a hunt it is then. But with my sincerest apologies, no one is allowed to leave the castle until the sorcerer is found.'

'I am the crown prince.'

'And I have the direct order from the king.'

* * *

><p><strong>Arthur skipped on the edge of the ledge, arms swinging and wriggling in an precarious attempt for balance while Emrys watched beside, alarmed and anxious.<strong>

_**'Come on, Emrys. Aren't you a **__**dragon**__**? Join me!'**_

**'Come back Arthur it's dangerous!' **

_**'You are a coward!**_**' The ****prince**** laughed without heat, but Emrys retorted indignantly. ****'No. I am no.'**** Arthur made a face, but he did leave the edge and started running around the ledge. **

_**'You are scared. Baby-scared.'**_** He giggled, suddenly rushing forward to trap Emrys in his cuddle. **_**'Baby Emrys.**_**' He cooed, swinging his baby in his arms.**

'**What's wrong with you today?****'**** Emrys wriggled off his embrace and trotted to a safe distance, watching wearily.**

_**Nope! No. Nah. Just ate some candies.**_** He panted slightly, he had run too fast, but he had so much energy in him! He rocked on his heels, standing still was impossible.**

**He thought, feeling way happ****ier**** than usual.**

_**Lots**_** of them.**

* * *

><p>Another day struck in the castle – with its frightened inhabitants whispering to each other and casting suspicious glances to each other. It reminded Arthur of Uther's inquisition when he freed the dragon.<p>

This had to stop.

Arthur leaned back on his chair and turned to the ceiling. He might have to talk to his father, about how ridiculous it was to have a sorcerer right here in the castle. But it wouldn't work – _for the love Camelot, O wise king, my great father, you are a fool to believe in Aredian._

Yeah, it would end so well. He literally saw himself kicked out of the chamber and Aredian snickering.

It wasn't like he was a bad lobbist. Magic was a tricky subject with his father, it would require deliberation, patience and a subtle amount of flattery –

If only Merlin would stop making those noise!

'Stop pacing around!' Arthur snapped, 'You will walk holes on my floor.'

'Do you know what is underneath your floor?' Arthur was baffled by the question – he really had no idea.

'The kitchen! The kitchen Arthur and do you know what it means with a hole big enough you can directly access your food. 'Merlin said excitedly in one breathe.

Arthur stared, bu his servant hadn't quite finished.

'Then I don't have to get your breakfast everyday. With that time I can go digging holes in the forest.' He jumped and clasped his hand, jabbing a finger at him as he landed. 'But you will get fatter and fatter and one day you will get stuck in the hole. Then I will walk around your head to collapse more floorboard for you. Or run. Or jump, like a hopping frog. You won't be attacked by bandits or sorcerers because no one will recognise you. '

Arthur stared. His mind simply wouldn't comprehend the absurdity his ears were reporting to him.

This was out of their usual calibre. He wasn't even angry. He was – amused. And stunned.

'Arthur? Arthur? Answer me! Can you move? 'Arthur registered something swiftly wriggling across his face, then Merlin bounced back to the centre of the room, laughing.

Finally he choked out.

'_Mer_lin. Are you drunk?'

He expected his servant to deny indignantly, but today something was very off with him.

'Ha. You haven't seen me drunk! I can blow out a torch with a hiccup! I can fell a tree with my sneeze!'

That was it. Merlin was in the tavern.

No one could leave the castle, let alone visited the tavern, but later Arthur forgave himself for that minor glitch in logic. And as he mused Merlin waltzed away.

Then suddenly he heard someone giggling. Dreading and praying, he turned.

'Arthur. Have you heard that? My breathing sound is so funny!'

* * *

><p>After two days of nonsense, his servant finally stopped making jokes about brass.<p>

Arthur should be relieved of the free of gibberish, but Merlin was uncharacteristically quiet today –the stark contrast worried him.

Arthur looked up his paperwork, there Merlin was folding his clothes, in silence. He half expected the man to crackle into laughter and sprouted some jokes about clothes.

Then he noticed the fine tremor in his hands, and he frowned at the spilled juice on his breakfast tray.

Was he sick? Gaius said stress could weaken the immune system. That witchfinder was a major headache for everyone.

'Merlin?' Arthur called, winced when Merlin immediately dropped the pile in shock. His tone softened. 'What's wrong with you? Are you sick?'

'No – Ar-arthur – I am fine.'

That was a blatant lie. His breath was ragged, and it worsened as Arthur approached, like he was straining against a wound. Merlin squeezed his eyes shut. Then he opened them and pulled on a weak smile.

'Arthur? Are you _worried _about me?'

Reflexively, Arthur snorted. 'I don't want you to drop dead in my chamber. You are incompetent enough alive, dead is worse.'

'Ha –' This would usually be followed by a witty resort, but there was none. The laugh was too weak for Arthur's comfort.

'Look Merlin, after tidying up the clothes and my plates, I want you to have the rest of the day off.'

'Ar –'

'No arguing!'

* * *

><p>'Don't close the door.' His ward pleaded, Gaius raised his brows in question.<p>

'Sorry Gaius… I feel so trapped.' His ward had already coiled up into a ball on his bed.

They were running out of time.

* * *

><p><strong>He couldn't get out. He couldn't breathe. It was so dark. The air was so thick. The walls were closing in on him.<strong>

**His fear spiked.**

_**Emrys.**_** He called with his mind. **_**I am scared.**_

_**What's wrong Arthur!**_** He imagined his ****dragon ****leaping off his perch and flying in restless circles.**

_**I am trapped in a wardrobe.**_** He whimpered, curling into his knees.**** Stupid wardrobe, stupid game with Morgana.**

**Emrys paused. **_**What's a wardrobe?**_** Despite the fear, Arthur rolled his eyes.**

_**A place for storing clothes.**_**_ Emrys_.**

_**Then there is no monster to get you**__**! **__**Don't worry. I have been trapped for years and I'm still fine**_**.**

**Th****ese were****n't the most reassuring ****words****. But they chattered on. He ran his hand on the rough wood, not like smooth and warm hide of Emrys, but it calmed him a bit.**

**After an eternity, Bernard found him. He rushed forward to greet the light.**

* * *

><p>'Rise and shine –'<p>

The morning call lacked its usual rigor, before Arthur could processed the problem, a clash made him leapt up in bed, reaching for a sword that wasn't there.

Beside the window, Merlin sprawled on the floor, shielding his face against the sunlight.

Arthur hastily unsheathed the sword that was never there and came to his side.

'_Mer_lin! I told you not to come back until you recover!'

There was no response – just painfully ragged breathing. Merlin's eyes were gazed over and half fluttering closed over flushed cheeks, the healthy color unnerving against pallid skin. Still half naked, Arthur tried to pull his friend back on his feet.

Arthur grabbed the clothes around his arm – Merlin's head whipped up so fast it might break, and he _growled_.

Arthur froze.

Then Merlin shook his head and appeared horrified at what he had done.

'I am sorry…leave me…Arthur.'

He tried to flinch away from his touch, but Arthur was faster –

He almost withdrew his hand. Merlin's skin was hot, inhumanly hot. He felt he was touching his bath water.

'You are burning up!'

His friend muttered a weak response. Something like leave me alone – I am fine – But Arthur was having none of it.

He hefted him up –who knew his twig-like servant was that heavy? – Arthur clenched his teeth and his stubborn servant clutched onto the floor with his hands like talons.

Plastering against his own, Merlin's clothes felt all wet and hot. Arthur was mad, fuming, livid. When he recovered, that idiot was going to spend a week in the stock. No. An eternity.

For how long had he been hiding this? How he struggled into his chamber was beyond him.

Arthur cursed the witchfinder.

He kicked open Gaius' door.

The physician hurried to meet the pair.

'I told you not to go this morning.' The old man whispered harshly. Merlin grunted a burning breath on his shoulder.

A fallen object on the floor, Arthur stumbled slightly, and Merlin screamed.

His words, a hysteric anarchy of _let me go, trapped, _were lost on Arthur's ears as he struggled to subdue a tangle of flailing limbs.

'Merlin!'

A splash of cold water, the turmoil died down in a horrifying silence and stillness. Gaius set down the bowl with a cling, Arthur, waking from his stupor, carefully lowered his lethargic friend to the cot.

'What's wrong with him, Gaius?'

Gaius gave him a veiled look.

'Sick. And he was not having enough rest. Exhaustion led to delirium, and emotional stress exacerbated the situation.'

The bell rang. Like a death blow in a nightmare, Merlin shot to consciousness and bleached further if it was even possible.

'Gaius! I have to go…'

'You are not going anywhere!' Arthur immediately snapped, a firm grip on his shoulder so he couldn't hurt himself.

'That's useless. He will come. He knows.'

The physician didn't have to raise his voice to speak over his cryptic complaint.

'Listen Merlin. _I am going to the hunter_ –' 'no Gaius!' –'Arthur, Come with me.'

'But we can't leave –'

'No. Merlin is better that way. He knows what he should do.' Arthur really doubted it – Merlin seldom knew he was doing – but there was authority in Gaius' voice and he obeyed.

Gaius ushered him out of the door. Arthur led the way, so he didn't notice the flash of gold on the physician's eyes as the door closed. There was no turning back now.

* * *

><p>'My lord, nice timing indeed. Your servant is missing.' Aredian said, flapping the list on the parchment over in his hand.<p>

'My servant is sick today.'

'What a pity.' Aredian's voice certainly sounded otherwise. A hungry look leaped onto his face, like a snake on a bird. He put on his glasses. 'Then I must visit him myself.'

'No, the patient is now at a very contagious stage.'

Turning towards the speaker, Aredian stared.

And stared.

His smile froze for a moment, before it was replaced a ferocious grin that showed all his teeth. Arthur couldn't understand –

'Guards seize him. He is the sorcerer. '

Arthur froze. Aredian was pointing at Gaius.

* * *

><p>Arthur saw red, an unforgiving heat scorching in his chest.<p>

His father hadn't battered an eye when Aredian accused Gaius.

'What do you have to say for youself?'

'That I have never betrayed Camelot, my lord.'

With that the long-serving physician was sent to the dungeon. It was Arthur's insistence that delayed the pyre, but it wouldn't be long if he didn't think of anything.

* * *

><p>Shame.<p>

Shame. And Anger. That was all he felt. He sensed the magic Gaius used, and mere thought of it sent a wave of his own brimming out, whiplashing the cave in a shower of rocks.

The witchfinder had caught Gaius. Or else he would have come for him, for his absence, and for the reports of the suspicious servants he met on the hallways.

If Aredian dared to lay a finger –

His magic rose with the anger, and a particularly large boulder detached from ceiling. His wings rose to shield him against the shattering debris.

It was out of control. He couldn't shift back. As if his magic loathed being trapped in a lesser vessel.

This body was stronger, healed faster and held more magic. But he had to shift back if he were to save Gaius. He didn't have a plan, aside from banging into the council chamber…

The exit was a few wing-beats above him, next to the foot holes Gaius had dug, which years ago brought his destiny and best friends to him. But he couldn't get through the corridor in this form.

He felt so powerless…The man who taught him his first words. The man who told him who he was. The man who showed him loved when he was imprisoned. The second-father in his life ...now dying for him as he squatted like an imbecile in the cave.

Ironically, the bind that had bound him was the thing he needed now.

* * *

><p>The idiot was gone.<p>

Arthur couldn't believe his eyes when he stared at the empty physician chamber, now resembling a village raved by bandits.

Where was the idiot going at this state!

He searched through the castle with Guinevere. Halfway through the training field, he had an idea.

Arthur went down to the dungeon. What he saw almost sent him charging to the cell and hitting the witchfinder.

Almost.

Guinevere tucked at his sleeve. Reluctant, he nodded. It wouldn't do any good now, his recklessness.

Instead they went to Aredian's room. He would find evidence proving him wrong.

If the witchfinder was telling the truth…Arthur had no idea, but he wouldn't let Gaius die.

The room was locked. But there was no trouble for the prince to acquire a set of key to his castle.

He found Aredian's prized glasses in a small chest underneath his bed – a too popular hiding spot.

He put it on. And blinked.

The room was still the same.

He went to everywhere in the castle, to the physician chamber which Aredian claimed was infested with sorcery.

There was no sign of gold nor magic.

* * *

><p>'My lord, I have found the evidence. This is from the traitor's chamber.' Aredian banished magically bracelet in front of his triumphant grin.<p>

'Aredian, I have a discovery of my own.' Beside the throne, Arthur hid a smile at Uther's cold tone.

The witchfinder paled a bit, but managed to keep the smile on his face. 'What's it my lord?'

Uther didn't say anything. He threw the glasses to his feet.

'I have put on the glasses.'

'How...how did you find it ...'

All color drained from the snake's face. Arthur smiled.

* * *

><p>Gaius took a sip of potion.<p>

He would like some poultice to his lashes at the back, but his ward wasn't available at the moment. He wasn't the most suitable either. One touch and the bruise on his arm was gone, vanished. It would be very suspicious if his injuries healed within a night. He had warned Merlin, not to tried anything until his magic recovered, but he was having none of it.

A bursting jar turned his head to the backroom. Merlin had been holing up there all night, trying to regain control over his tumult magic.

There was a loud bang from the trunk, followed by an unrestrained sting of curse. The locked door did nothing to seal up the magic, weak as he was, Gaius could sense it like a tidal wave.

Gaius signed.

He knew Aredian when he didn't go by that name. Before the Great Purge, his family were close with the druids. The artifect passing the line for generations was used to identify children with magic, who were then sent to the druids to control their gift. Then the nightmare came and different sorcerers met their various fate.

For Gaius, he surrendered to Uther.

For Aredian, he became a witchhunter.

He was ashamed of his deed in the Purge. He was too a kinslayer, if not as blood-stained as Aredian. He watched and swallowed his scream when the pyres burned.

One was of his greatest regret and shame was he couldn't save Balinor.

A candle lit up.

He would call in sick for Merlin again tomorrow. Arthur wasn't convinced when Merlin shouted from his room he had gone to the town for a healer – Gaius certainly understood why. But he could also see the concern on the prince's face, the way he leaned forward slightly, trying to see behind the locked door.

And it brought a smile to his bruised face.

* * *

><p>The alarm bell rang at night. For the hundredth time in the month, someone escaped.<p>

Aredian.

Gaius examined the guards and declared they were asleep, _in a spell._

In a fleeting flash of his over-active imagination, Arthur wondered if Aredian was telling the truth all along, that_ the glasses only worked for a sorcerer_.

He pondered on its implications.

_It didn't change anything._

Arthur stretched and headed back to sleep.

* * *

><p>'Rise and shine!'<p>

Arthur grunted to the disgustingly annoying voice and woke. To a rather interesting sight.

A parchment was _floating_ mid-air.

He blinked the sleep from his eyes – oh – it was still there – parchment, in the air.

Then Merlin snatched the paper from its limbo and brandished vigorously at the ceiling.

'Merlin! What. Are. You. Doing!'

'A huge spider Arthur! Its silk sticks to your speech for the royal tiles guild!'

Merlin's serious expression hardly made the words more convincing for Arthur.

'Why would a spider stick on my paper?'

'Who knows? I am not a spider.' Merlin turned from the ceiling with – definitely mocked –annoyance.

Rolling over, Arthur decided to go back to his dream again. He didn't need to see that cheeky smile.

* * *

><p>AN: Now Arthur was officially willing to cover for Gaius the sorcerer. And thick enough to stop a bomb.<p>

Aredian is a total rewrite, because I have written half of the chapter before I realised I have remembered the wrong character. And the sword is magical only when Arthur touches it.

The rewrite wasn't water-tight – why the hell Aredian left the lens in his chamber, and Arthur...I have no idea, that was the intelligence of Camelot for you.

Thanks for anyone who read/follow/review! Please keep that coming!


	11. Chapter 11: The Siren

The siren

* * *

><p>Chandelier casted an undulating wave of light in the chamber. His consciousness drifted with the tide, a log swept away from the coast, away to a black sea of far about.<p>

Merlin poured some wine into his goblet, he grunted softly in acknowledgement, he tried, but no sound came out, amidst his sea of thoughts, torrents and eddy coursing through.

The red liquid swirled, a miniature pool of life in his fine trembling hand.

Blood was red.

They were too late. Their horses were fast, they ran with the sun and the wind, but wings of fire were faster. Scent of smoke urged them on, a siren's song, and they were too late.

The village was burnt to the ground. Once modest huts upon grassy fields, now blackened woods on lifeless ground. Smoke rose, slithering snakes dancing to the enchanted song.

Dying fire licked the sky, darkened with ashes.

Heat plastered onto their brows, their heart cold – the arsonist might still be around.

And flickers of hope, firefly light in storm – there might still be survivors.

_Might._

There was a scream, heart-wrenching blood-freezing soul-boiling. They ran, almost dropping the swords.

A burning pyre –a woman – not a witch.

A burning pyre – screams –no more screams.

When they managed to lower the woman to the ground, the fire had died down, so was any breath in her body.

Her flesh was red, raw naked red of a butchered stock. There was no blood – all blood scorched in flame.

Face of a tormented soul in hell, eternal frozen scream of a life drowned in flame. One of the knights uncloaked and laid the red fabrics on her.

Their burnt hands bled no blood either.

They were too late. The ship had sunk, darkness swallowed the passengers, ferryman set sail to the afterlife. And they were all those left on the shore, watching.

Downing his wine in one gulp, Arthur desired no more. He eyed Merlin, and his servant-turned-friend nodded in understanding. Blood-red wine mixed with his blood wine-red. A peasant buzz rang in his ears, his vision swam, and the chamber simmered like a mirage on the rim of his cup. Above the feast, the chandelier swayed, its candles ribbons of fire, a baby's cradle, weeds in the sea. A poor imitation of life. Fire in the dark, blood in the air.

His father gave him a tired smile, weight of years and recent fires in his eyes, crow legs seized. _Enjoy the dinner, son, _he seemed to say, but like voices under water, Arthur couldn't hear.

_Try, my son_, Uther said, Arthur nodded. Like he said, sulking around wouldn't solve anything. Nor it suited him.

On the billowing sea, he clenched onto the wheels and stood up.

Perhaps it was a good thing Lady Helen was coming.

* * *

><p><strong>For the third time he visited the dragon, his song almost made him turned back in indignation. Not that he knew the true depth of that emotion, or the terror of it, a child knew only annoyance and tantrum.<strong>

**He despised his name sung in such a manner, in the stupid mouth of a creature who knew not of the dignity of his name.**

**He taught Emrys a new song – one about an old farmer and his farm and his animals.**

**It still sounded horrible, a dragon would never be a siren, but it wasn't his name and he could live with it.**

**He didn't expect to hear something like that that night.**

_**Oi Camelot had a prat, his name is Arthur…**_

* * *

><p>'So Merlin, I need you to stand behind me and behave.'<p>

Simple enough, his servant's face seemed to read, with hint of a scoff. And eyes of understanding.

'Arthur, you know me. That's what I have been doing for the last two years.' A cheeky grin. Arthur huffed.

'You remember the time you fell asleep and startled the entire counsel?' Merlin' smile flattered a bit ,but it wasn't long before he started complaining about how it was Arthur's fault all again – training, laundry, herbs. It had taken all of his not inconsiderable charm and an unrealized punishment to bail his friend out of Uther's wraith.

But not tonight, he couldn't –His father was a frizzling fuse – anniversary of Morgana's disappearance-kidnapping and the ever burning fire.

One wrong step, and they would all sink in quicksand.

'Don't fall asleep again! Stay quiet and enjoy the opera –'

'About that – Arthur I am actually more worried about you –'

'Merlin!' A flying projectile, a nimble dodge. 'Just use your ears for once and not your mouth, okay? That's what the big pair for.'

* * *

><p><strong>He had never seen a dragon with ears that large. Granted, he had never seen another dragon, but such a prominent feature as two carrots sticking out of the head should be well-noted.<strong>

**Arthur loved pulling those ears, imagining himself as a farmer plucking out his carrots. **

**Of course, his dragon gave him a pitiful look, one seemed to say: stop pulling them! They are getting even larger!**

**Emrys struggled against his grasp, but there was a perk in age and Arthur was strong enough to ride astride his pet.**

**Desperately flattening his ears against his skull, not that it was of any use – Arthur picked him up like cake off a plate.**

'**That is to improve your sense of hearing Emrys!'**

'**What do I need that for? I hear only rubbish.'**

**Arthur had no idea honestly, and he missed the jab, but it didn't make him stop.**

* * *

><p>The silhouette was red.<p>

He never knew what prompt him to turn – no fleeing birds or howling wolves – or maybe it was the lack of. A breath caught in a hitch, a sore taste on a tongue, a fading stench. Something in the wind whispered his name.

He turned, he looked back, he squinted. And every time there was a red shadow. At the corner of his eyes, at the sky, at his dream.

Russet blood, crimson fire, red silhouette. All the villages, all the victims, dead by fire. A manic obsession, almost like a message, a challenge.

A pyre for the witch, another for the innocence.

'Let's welcome Lady Helen!' Someone said, they clapped.

She entered in a dress of red velvet. Deep bright eyes upon flaming lips. Flaming halos on chiseled cheeks. Her lips parted, quivering for him, an invitation of the siren.

His heart beat –once, twice.

A grease on the floor, a dent on his cup. Shifting shadow of the chandelier over a night sea.

She sang.

It was an ethereal beauty. Black feather of a swan, whisper of mountains, ripples on the lake. It was grace of the night, vermillion of lust, ecstasy of pain.

The voice called his name, and longing.

_Arthur…_

_Arthur…_

He saw a moonlit shore, a siren of soft silver, oceans apart from wakeful world. The scent of the sea, the aroma of fire, a lady waist deep in the water playing a violin.

The moon sank into water. How he wished to go down with the moon, sleeping, weeping, with all those he had failed. Beneath mirror of waves, light dwindled. A half muttered word, a crescent crescendo, a void. The glow receded, dimming light beneath the world he knew.

_Arthur. Come to me._

Her voice cascaded on his soul. He stood, he floated, he drifted. Melody of the siren, brought him to her. Cold claimed him, water seeped into his skin. An unborn child, a pyre ablaze, tempest tossed castle, eternity in its care.

Nightingale wailed. Firefly impaled on thrones.

One with the waves. Soon it would be over.

_Arthur...Come to me…. Arthur…_

_ARTHUR NO!_

He jolted awake.

He was standing in the middle of the room.

Everyone was asleep, head slumbered on collars, peaceful within time. Fine strands of cobwebs covered their hunched bodies, light as moss on mist.

_Arthur! Be careful!_

He looked. A woman clashed beneath the heavy chandelier, a dagger by her hand, sprawling, face-down, a drowned angel, smoldered smoke butterfly fluttered by.

'Father!' He called, 'Guards!' Bile rose, riding on tides of dread. Clothes rustled as sleepers woke, delicate murmur of leaves.

Lady Helen stirred, chandelier shot off like diving falcon. Bricks fell, and she raised her face.

It was Morgana.

* * *

><p><strong>They found an injured bird beneath a tree, among the decoy of fallen leaves and the last night rain. <strong>

**What could they do? The children looked at each other. **

**A knight walked by, the bird whimpered, almost inaudible. **

**Its neck was broken – the bird flinched, the fair knight said, there was nothing we could do – turn your head children. **

**The warning came too late. Arthur saw –They saw – the bird-shaped creature crashed beneath the stone into smashes of red flesh. Blood split, a drop of wet on his face, he wanted to cry.**

**He puked. His stomach's content not unlike the mashed flesh.**

**But Morgana's face was impassive. **

'**Goodbye birdie', she whispered.**

* * *

><p>'Hello Arthur.' She sang. 'Nice to see you again.'<p>

Sweet, honey, flies, her voice sent shiver to his spine. Deer in a forest fire, his thought froze.

'Mor –gana?' Uther waken, grasped, each word like sandpaper on flesh. 'How …when … why?'

'A lovely surprise, isn't it?

Guards crashed into the chamber, a flash of golden eyes, and they flew to the wall, pebbles on a toss of the waves.

'You…have …magic?'

'Oh Uther. I thought you knew. Haven't Bayard told you about that?' She laughed, a piercing sound of a siren out of water.

'A chandelier, this is what ruin my plan? Haven't _dreamed_ of that coming.'

Uther was speechless, Arthur was speechless.

More guards poured in, some knights, spreading around the chamber in formation. She smiled.

'Such a fuss. Don't worry. It isn't your time to die yet. No.' Her tune took a deep purge to hatred. 'You will suffer as I had. And Arthur, ' she beamed, shiny white teeth of a predator, ' my sweet big _brother_.'

His chest felt cold. Cold, like the deepest sea, unforgiving.

'Surrender Morgana. You are outnumbered.' His voice was cold too. Cold, cold like an ice dagger, and as fragile.

'Surrender? Arrogance has always been your weakness Arthur. I am a high priestess of the Old Religion,' She smirked at Uther –' your petty mortal weapons won't stop me.'

'Morgana – who cursed you?' Uther gasped, an agonizing breath, water breakthrough.

'I am not cursed _father_! When will you understand! The Old Religion gifts me. I have dreamed and seen all these – the feast, the table, the music, Arthur walking towards my knife! The future is in my eyes! You will all bow before me and die!'

'But –' Her voice soften, a pool of fathomless depth behind a waterfall– 'my job is done here. A wonderful night. You need some time to _think _and _suffer.'_

An unintelligible chant, the ceiling collapsed. Guards dodged, and Morgana ran for the gap, more people flying away from her.

'After her!' Arthur heard himself shouted, his body didn't move.

Then he realized, during the confrontation, he had not reached for his sword, not once.

* * *

><p>'<strong>Emrys? Am I weak?'<strong>

'**No you aren't Arthur.'**

'**But Morgana…she was a girl and she didn't vomit.'**

'**Your heart felt for the bird. And that's why I am not afraid of you.' **

**Emrys climbed onto his lap. Arthur cuddled his dragon. And suddenly things became alright.**

* * *

><p>Dark and quiet, an underwater cave, his chamber.<p>

His father was in no fitting status to rule anymore.

Now decisions were all his – he couldn't cower behind his father or the law – he was the law.

He could condemn Morgana, and others like her.

In a way, they had it coming for themselves. Many nights before, the dead druid boy and his own hesitance broke her.

Gaius entered, reaffirming his father's status. He nodded.

Or he could spare her, or others like… like who she _used to be_.

And broke the cycle. He could try.

The thought was horrifying, but he couldn't let anymore innocent die.

A migraine, a constant hammering in his head. Was that how the rocks felt? an eternity gnawed by the waves.

Who tired his hands to the wheels? He didn't choose this, but now he was sailing with the current. To the unknown, to the nightmare, to the raging fall he worked so hard to deny.

If he was… an ordinary person… with a normal sister, he would have ordinary family with his love. A life he led only in dream. He imagined Gwen his loving wife, knights his colleague or fellow peasants, Merlin his big-mouthed neighbor.

Now he was carrying the burden, the valor, the responsibility, so _the others,_ could have their normal family. And his was foam in the mist.

The zodiac turned over him. The stars dimmed, disorienting. Forlorn, every choice was his to bear.

Somewhere there his fate revealed. He saw the mouth of the waterfall. His breath rose with anticipation. Today night, his choice would seal fate of his and thousands others.

He heard but how would he see? Their encouragement, their faith, but he didn't see the praise in him, he had failed his sister.

Then it became clear to him.

Morgana was dead, gone forever. The monster in front of him had devoured her and took her place. Stopping it was the only reprimand he could do, to honor his sister, to stop it from wearing her skin – his little girl with dazzling smile. _His sister._

Everything became clear – a break through the water. Even the worst news was a relief when it confirmed your worst fear. It was hard to light a candle, easy to curse the dark instead. But. Not anymore.

And he took with Excalibur out of the box.

* * *

><p>AN: This chapter was really a song-fic. I adore the band, poetries sang by sirens. I can't resist, the new album is coming out in March!<p>

Sorry for the short chapter. The next one will be short too, but you will love it…there is something…


	12. Chapter 12: Forgiven

Forgiven

* * *

><p>Uther hadn't left his bed since Morgana's attack.<p>

* * *

><p>Arthur thought it was magic, but Gaius said it was his heart.<p>

Arthur nodded.

He knew his father was dying. He had been dying since Morgana left him.

There was nothing Gaius could do. Arthur knew.

There was a sense of wicked ivory in it. King Uther, the greatest of all kings in five kingdom, slayer of armies and sorcerers, struck down by a heart break.

* * *

><p>A week after the attack, Uther made it to the newly refurnished chamber, wobbling and leaning onto his servant Georg. He had aged ten years. His hairs were all grey. The robe angled the hollowness of his frame. The crown was too large for his head.<p>

Arthur was made Prince Reagent.

He had expected it. He would bear it. He wouldn't fail his father.

His crowning ceremony was almost cut short when Uther couldn't finish the speech without struggling for breath.

He didn't leave his chamber since then.

He asked Gaius if there was anything, _anything, _he could do.

Gaius had shaken his head, but Arthur had seen the hesitance in it.

There was a way, Arthur knew, magic.

* * *

><p>It was wrong. To condemn and to embrace magic as he saw fit. To find salvation in magic when sorcerers were still prosecuted.<p>

It was selfish. It was hypocritical.

What would he do after…if…he saved his father?

Could he still outlaw magic? Could he burn the one who saved his father? Could he douse the pyre before Camelot?

Was he fit to be a ruler anymore?

The sun bled its dying light to the forest, casting everything on fire. The sky was a dull reddish purple, a bruise that refused to heal. Beneath him, the common folks carried on with their mundane lives, mother and child, seller and buyer, old man and his cart.

He found himself looking out of the window a lot these days.

'How can I work against my own law?' Arthur asked himself.

'Change it then. Law isn't infallible.'

Arthur turned towards the voice. He wasn't aware Merlin was in the room. He hadn't left after fetching his dinner. He ate alone a lot these days.

Merlin set down the water jag on the table and held his glaze. His eyes were firm. Arthur knew his were confused and shattered.

Had he fallen that far? He couldn't recognize the man in front of him. He couldn't recognize himself.

'That is your choice Arthur. Some choices are easy. Some choices stay with you for a lifetime. Some truths are easy, some are the truth. '

* * *

><p>Arthur heard the heart-wrenching coughs before he entered the chamber.<p>

He halted, hands still hovering on the door knob.

His father wouldn't want him to see him waste away.

The cough never stopped.

He couldn't wait any longer.

* * *

><p>If he used magic to save Uther, his father would kill himself first; He would probably kill Arthur first too.<p>

But Arthur was not his father.

He heard argument in the distance.

Merlin was screaming. Gaius's voice was low and pleading.

'Do you know what you are saying! Hear yourself Gaius! I will never do that!'

'It is just a sugges-'

'You know what he has done! '

'You are the only one-'

'I will never do that!'

A red faced Merlin stormed out of the door. He froze for a moment and sent Arthur a swift glare. Before Arthur could read into it, the man had disappeared around the corner.

Arthur entered. One of the door hinges was broken.

'Gaius?'

The old man looked up from the table. His eyes were red; his brows didn't have the strength to go up.

'My lord.' Gaius said, and his voice shown his age.

'Is there a way to heal my father?'

'I told you there was no way –'

'How about magic?'

The word pierced like a spear to the face.

'Arthur…' Gaius ignored his eyes.

'Magic can cure my father.' He confirmed, pressing closer to the old man crouching on the table.

Arthur despised himself.

'Only a dragon's tear.' Gaius said after a long silence, sinking further into himself.

'A dragon's tear.' Arthur echoed.

'There is dragon no left… If Uther hasn't killed all of them…' Gaius' voice rose, then fell.

Arthur thought _no. There was still one out there._

* * *

><p>He would be a hypocrite. He would be one for his father. The rest, they were subjects for the future.<p>

That was it. Arthur had decided.

_Emrys. Emrys –_ Merlin dropped something again at the back, Arthur paid him no mind- _Emrys! _

He hoped he was still alive. He hoped he would answer him.

_Emrys! Can you hear me!_

After the longest seconds staring out at the window, there was finally a reply.

_I am not deaf you know. _Emrys sounded different. It was the voice of a young man with an undertone of a low rumbling. Arthur could still hear the annoyance in it, somehow achingly familiar.

_Emrys. _A strange emotion flushed over him. Was it relief?

_I know my name Arthur. No need to remind me again. _The dragon was teasing him. Arthur forgot what he was calling him for for a moment.

_Emrys I have to meet you as soon as possible._

_Why was that Arthur? There was a renovation at the cave?_

_No time for jok__es__. I can meet you at the forest clearing. Will you come?_

The dragon was silence. Arthur felt the emptiness in his head, like some parts of it was lost.

_I will see you at midnight._

Then he sharply left their conversation. There was a dull resonance the room; Arthur didn't know what to think.

* * *

><p>There was a name for the forest clearing; the locals had called it <em>Mirror of Forgiveness; <em>The way the clearing among the sea of trees reflected the moonlight like a silvery lake, and the way animals, predators and preys alike, would gather there once every month at the full moon, peaceful and quiescent. Some local had whispered in reverence the clearing was magical. Arthur thought they were merely superstitious, and they would better be, or there was nothing to stop his father from burning them and the clearing. If he still could.

'**In the middle of the forest is a clearing, that is an empty place. I heard it is beautiful. ' **

**It was one of the tales from Gwen. Arthur liked the way her dark eyes sparkled when she recalled the campfire tale. Emrys was flying in small circles above him, his chain made an ****ugly**** screech every time he beat his wings.**

'**Wolves sing their song to the moon. Doe grazes with their fawns. Grass swayed without wind and leaves danced without breeze. '**

**Emrys landed next to him, folding his wings in neatly. **

'**I would like to go there someday.'**

* * *

><p>Ancient oaks stood sentient around in palisade. The weeds were a tall breed brushing against his knees. Windless, time seemed to sleep in the clearing. A soft halo drifted down from the crescent moon overhead. The sky was clear and the stars shone sharp.<p>

He wasn't sure if he was relieved or disappointed when he saw the dragon at the clearing.

Emrys had grown. His shoulder stood as tall as a wagon and his body easily suppressed three lined up together. He had lost the chubbiness he used to remember. His neck arched slender and graceful like a swan. His legs were long and slim, adorned with five viscous long bird-like talons. A wipe-like tail coiled in the air, a dark ribbon as long as his body. Light slid off obsidian scales like dews off a pebble.

He spread his wings, two massive sails devouring the sky, and in two effortless flaps, the dragon crossed the clearing and stood in front of Arthur.

Arthur raised his chin, his grip tight around the reassurance of Excalibur; He couldn't afford to look weak.

'Arthur.' The dragon inclined his great head and bowed slightly. Arthur stared at the pair of horns spiraling out on his head, each as long as his forearm.

'Emrys.' His eyes were the only thing Arthur could still recognize; the same fierce blue that seemed to be depthless and ageless. He remembered them…and saw them…

'So long Arthur.' His voice was less gravelly than one would expect from a huge beast.

Arthur said nothing. He felt a warmth rising up behind his eyes. It was the clearing.

'What do you want from me?'

'That's how you speak to someone who freed your life?' Arthur said drily. It wasn't tone he intended. It wasn't the script he planned.

'You thought I haven't done anything for you?' The dragon nuzzled towards the sword on his belt. Arthur tried not to flinch as the gigantic head moved closer.

'You made the sword.'

'Where do you think dragon's fire come from?'

'So It is really a sword from dragon fire.'

'It has slayed a wraith. And it can slay a dragon.'

'How come Merlin has found it?'

'Because I let him.'

'Why did you give me this?' Arthur stepped backward and shook his head. It wasn't right.

'Because you needed it.' Emrys stated a matter-of-factly.

Arthur shook his head again. Still it wasn't right. Nothing was right. His father, his kingdom, him and the dragon.

'Why do you call me here Arthur?' The dragon sighed, his breath a hint of the blazing furnace within.

'My father is dying. He needs a dragon's tear.'

'Do you know what you are asking of me?' the dragon said a cold whisper that sent shivered down his body.

'That will be the last thing I ask for.' Arthur said, firm.

A flash of black – and Arthur was pinned to the ground under a massive claw.

'You have no idea what you are asking of me.' His voice was cold and dangerous. Arthur closed his eyes, resigned to his fate. At least he had tried.

'You have no idea what you are asking of me' Emrys repeated again. Arthur felt the pressure on his chest lessened. Emrys' voice became soft and hurt. 'And you have no idea what you have done for me. You have no idea what you will do for me.'

Arthur opened his eyes. The dragon's eyes were sparkling. He released they were tears. A silvery quartz dropped onto his palm.

'Go now Arthur. Your father doesn't have much time.'

The dragon lifted his massive wings into the sky.

Arthur ran.

* * *

><p><strong>Arthur was running. He was out of breath. He wasn't fasting enough.<strong>

**He heard his pursuer getting closer. And there was a sky-high wall of stone in front of-**

**Arthur fell face first onto the ground.**

'**Owch!'**

'**Catch you Arthur!' Emrys sat triumphantly on his back, wings arching high on either side of his flanks.**

'**Get off! You are fat.' Arthur tried to roll; Emrys crawled off, giving him a slight smack on the face with his tail. **

**Arthur rubbed his cheek. 'It is not fair! You have four legs!'**

**Emrys sat next to him like a polite little boy. He smiled sheepishly. A playful nudge.**

'**Well Arthur you can also run on your hands.'**

* * *

><p>Arthur ran.<p>

The quartz dug into his palm. It burned hotter than any tear.

The wind howled in his face. The branches dragged on his feet.

He ran.

The guards at the gate made a futile attempt to stop him. They fell like porcelain dolls.

The roads to the castle stretched on forever. The market, devoid of life, dark and haunted.

He tripped.

The castle was dead as the night. The servants stood dead statues like on the corridor.

He ran.

Someone called his name. They were calling his name.

He ran.

Guinevere reached for him. He couldn't stop.

He ran.

Gaius shook his head.

They were in front of the chamber.

Gaius looked into his eyes.

Arthur couldn't run anymore.

Merlin was holding him.

Gaius' mouth was moving. Merlin's mouth was moving. Arthur could hear no sound.

His knees buckled.

Merlin fell with him.

There was nothing at first then the tears came.

He wailed into the clothes of his friend.

_I am sorry Arthur. _

_Leave me Emrys! The next time I see you, I will kill you._

Merlin held him tighter.

The quartz burned like ice. Then it shattered.

Arthur lost sense of time and space.

The next day he woke in his bed.

He felt nothing.

The crown landed on his head.

He barely felt it.

They were chanting – long live the king!

Long live the king.

* * *

><p>In an island far away from Camelot, on an isle known as the Blessed, two women were talking. On a pile of bodies.<p>

'Morgana! I told you. The ritual won't work. The sacrifice isn't enough.'

'Why? We killed fifty druid children!'

'Their magic isn't strong enough to trip the balance.'

'Then I march on Camelot without an army.'

'Don't Morgana! I warned you not to go after Camelot alone. There is something or someone... My afanc and wraith were destroyed somehow.'

'Morgause you are a coward.' She appraised her, disgust and despise, like she was seeing her for the first time. Her voice was cold, but Mougause pushed it aside.

'Morgana we need a strategy. An ace.'

She cut her off. 'Then I will need my army.'

'Sister –' Worry clouded beneath her brows, her magic tingled in warning.

'You say their magic isn't strong enough. What if I sacrifice something much stronger?'

'Sister?'

Morgause hadn't expected the dagger flying at her chest. She dodged. She fell.

In her last moments, she felt her magic flowing over to the isle with her blood. Like every time she used her magic, it was warm and calming.

'I am sorry sister.' Morgana whispered.

Then isle glowed gold.

* * *

><p>AN: We are heading to the end now. Next chapter will be the second last. Thanks for putting up with the short chapter and horribly-changing style. And the horrible news: I have run out of pre-written chapters. I have no idea how to write a battle, and sorry Morgause, I can't handle two villains and I know the killing is totally unnecessary. So please forgive me, it will take two or three weeks for the update, depending on how much homework I get.<p> 


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